Hermione and the Divergence Point
by UsagiManaChan
Summary: An Alternate Universe where an infant Hermione is adopted by Snape after an incident lands her in St. Mungos. It follows both perspectives up to the Deathly Hallows. How does one impulse decision of a twenty-one-year-old change the Wizarding World and those in it? T for language
1. Prologue

"WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!" Ren gasped pointing to the baby on the table. The same baby he had just put in her crib.

"I don't know!" Catherine groaned lifting their child off the open books. "Mummy needs to study, _please go back to sleep for the love of God!"_

"What were we thinking?" Ren looked at his fiancee and daughter in desperation. "We're seventeen..."

Ren Granger and Catherine Kirk, graduated top of their class and admitted to Oxford Pre-Med. No one saw this coming, least of all them.

Catherine was a first-generation Brit, and as the daughter of Jamaican immigrants, Desmond and Rose Kirk, she often felt the pressure to succeed. Since she was twelve she wanted to be a brain surgeon, and she had worked her way to it. Cat waited tables at her parents' restaurant, earned not one, but three scholarships. Everything she worked so hard for wasn't going to be thrown away by some stupid mistake at their year-eleven-ball.

Ren loved his daughter, of course he loved his daughter. How could he not? But he felt the same as his fiancee. He wanted to be a surgeon. Sure, he wanted children with Catherine someday, but it was clear Hermione would not be with them had they not missed the train to the clinic. They had changed their minds then and there, but there was no way to know if they made the right decision. He thought about his own mother's disappointment.

Like Catherine, Hana was a first-generation Londoner, her mother a Japanese immigrant and her father a Korean immigrant. Something that she would never let him forget. They risked everything not just to move to London, but to be together given the environment at the time. Hana felt immense pressure to succeed but never managed to be more than a secretary with the _Londoner_. His father, Hugo, being both white and London-born, never faced the same barriers, but he matched his wife's vigour in setting up Ren's future.

He imagined their disappointment and a knot formed in his stomach. He had worked so hard, how could he have mucked it up so completely? It'd been a long time, perhaps his parents had calmed down. Perhaps hers did too. They had a teleporting baby, he wanted support from someone who wouldn't call them crazy. Between school and Hermione, he couldn't remember the last time either of them slept through the night.

"When's your exam, Cat?"

She ran a hand through her thick brown curls and fixed her red-rimmed brown eyes on him. Her usually sienna skin paled and her bloodless lips wore thin from repeated chewing. The beautiful, vibrant and brilliant Cat he fell in love with had become a shadow of her former self. He knew he was not much better.

"Tomorrow," she sighed. "At nine o'clock. Though I won't be able to study if you don't finish that thought"

"Cat," he took the baby and kissed Cat's forehead. "I don't know...I love our daughter, and I love you. I just...I don't know."

"I don't know either..." she sobbed. "I wish I did! I thought I could do it all! I just want...No, I _can_ do this!"

"_We_ can do this. I don't have any exams, I can take care of her tomorrow. Get some rest."

"Okay... wait, is she cold?" Catherine touched her cheek.

"I don't know," he felt her other cheek. "She is a bit chilly. I'll take her to A&E tomorrow if she's still cold."

"Shouldn't we take her in now?" Cat bit her lip.

"The doctor said she's fine two days ago, Cat," he said, feeling as uncertain as Cat looked. "We don't want them thinking we're just paranoid young patents."

"And if it's serious?"

"Jesus, I don't know, Cat! I just...maybe we should...I" a knot formed in the back of his throat. "I don't know what to do..."

"Okay," Catherine inhaled sharply with unconvincing confidence. "You're probably right. Let's put her to bed then get some sleep ourselves."

* * *

Catherine couldn't sleep. Did she know everything that would be on her exam? What if she failed? She imagined crawling back to her parents with her mixed baby in her arms. She knew her mother didn't care, but her father had a more complicated relationship, she could blame Caribbean colourism for that. But they both would care that she was a failure. She imagined her days working in the Jamaican BBQ while Ren worked at his grandparent's Korean Take-away. Their lives would be miserable, a complete disaster. And Hermione's wouldn't be any better. How could she do anything for her baby if she couldn't fix her own life? She had to fix her own life...somehow, some way.

_Hermione..._Catherine should have took her to A&E...She was cold. Christ, she nearly died twice after she was born. Her little blue baby girl, barely breathing and brought into the world three months before she should have. They said it was a miracle Catherine could carry the pregnancy at all when she herself was in such poor health. But who had time to be in good health? Catherine's fate, no Catherine's family's fate rested in her not only becoming a neurosurgeon, but in her graduating top of her class. All the slurs, all the abuse her parents took, all the hardship Ren faced would then be worth it. There was no time for Catherine to care for herself.

But what good was she to her family dead?

Catherine took the few easy steps from her side of the bed to peer into their daughter's crib. To her relief, the strange teleporting bushy-haired child laid there, covered in more blankets than she remembered putting her to bed with. Her large brown eyes stared up at her expectantly. Much to Catherine's chagrin, Hermione had her very thick and curly medium brown hair, which at the moment seemed as big as her. She had her eye colour, a warm medium brown, but she had Ren's beautiful eye shape, double-lidded almond shapes on high cheek-bones that turned up at the corners. If she was happy to see Hermione inherited anything from her, it was her long eye-lashes. Her eyes would be stunning, if nothing else.

_Are you honestly judging your baby on her appearance?_ Catherine rolled her eyes and reached down to touch her daughter. Her cheek, despite her blankets was still cold. Not the frigid chill that she had the first time they rushed her to hospital, but not as warm as she thought she should be. She decided to make herself a coffee and check back in on her. Ren had a point, the A&E doctors seemed to attribute think Hermione would recover, the pale cast to her skin would go away, her breathing was better, to the point that she cried as much as coughed now. They said colic was normal, and the cough would go away with the medicine. They were frustrated with the sleepless teen parents, and one even had the gall to suggest Catherine take a year off, she was still young after all.

If that was the way they wanted it, fine. She would make a coffee and study. If she finished her review of the peripheral nervous system and Hermione was still cold, Catherine would take her then.

She lit a candle to read by as not to wake Ren, the small one-room apartment was not ideal for their completing schedules. She put on the electric kettle and turned to the small round table that, like the rest of their furniture (with the exception of the crib), had a tenancy longer than their own. Where was her book? She left it open the table. She knew it!Where the hell...

_Ren!_ He had a nasty habit of putting her things away when she wasn't done with them. There was a particular order to her disorganised mess, she knew where everything was, even if she couldn't explain it. But Ren had internalised his mother's desire for cleanliness, even to the detriment of their lives. She huffed a sigh and turned to the area where they had kept their bed. And she found her book...in Hermione's crib.

"How are you doing this?" she cried. "What do you want?"

"Cat?" Ren jolted out of bed, springing to his feet. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

Catherine ripped the book from the baby's arms. "What the hell is wrong with our baby? I swear she's...I can't be the only one to see this! Am I crazy?"

Hermione let out a wail between wheezing coughs. Weakly reaching for something. She wasn't sure if it was the volume or her.

"You're not crazy," Ren held Catherine before turning his attention to the baby. "Why does she have so many blankets? Cat, I know you said she was cold, but she could strangle herself with these."

"I didn't put them there!" Cat yelled.

"I suppose she did it herself?" he snapped back.

"Yes! Like the book! I don't know how!"

Ren looked at the book Catherine held and to the blankets in his arms. Relief washed over her as she saw his expression change and he addressed Hermione. "How are you doing this?"

Hermione only cried in response reaching up. Lights flickered a loud shattering rang from behind them. Catherine and Ren let out yelps of surprise and spun to see the remanents of Catherine's mug scattered on the dilapidated wood.

"What the hell is wrong with her!" Ren yelled.

"I don't know, Ren! I just..." Catherine turned to her daughter screaming. "If you can do that you can tell me what you want!"

Hermione still only cried in response, reaching upward once more.

The shouting continued. At this point Catherine didn't know who or what she was yelling at. Ren? Hermione? Herself? God? She loved Ren, she loved her daughter...why couldn't she just put the sleepless nights aside and figure out what she needed to do? She was supposed to be smart, and if she really meant to love and help her daughter, why couldn't she? She recognized the same frustration in Ren, but still shrieked at him and at her baby.

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" a baritone voice shouted from the neighbouring apartment. "IT'S TWO-AM, PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!"

"Okay," Catherine breathed and picked up Hermione. "Let's just get her to the A&E. And maybe our neighbour CAN MIND HIS OWN DAMN BUSSINESS!"

"Cat!" Ren hissed grabbing their coats.

* * *

_This is not keeping a low profile,_ Severus thought as he waited for the girl in his bed to wake up.

"What..." the girl said groggily. "Who the hell are you? And what the hell are you doing with my baby?"

"You collapsed at your door," he explained with disinterest. "I was going to call 9-9-9, but you were conscious enough to insist no hospitals. When is your boyfriend home?"

"My _fiance _will be home around five," she hissed.

"Fiance..." he laughed. "And you're what? Fifteen?"

"Seventeen," she rolled her eyes and rose from the bed. "And we happen to be adults in some cultures."

"Drink this," he said pointing to the revitalizing potion. "It'll help you regain your strength. I imagine food would too..."

He noted the girl's thin frame, her hair seemed to be the biggest part of her body. Her skin had a pale cast to it, but he imagined was supposed to be much darker. She was clearly anaemic, and the baby in his arms was not fairing much better. He wondered if the late-night crying was because her self-neglect extended to that of her child.

"And you're just helping us out out of the kindness of your heart?" she asked suspiciously.

"I suppose you would prefer if I 'mind my own damn business'?" he sneered.

"I'm sorry," she said eyeing the potion. "What on earth is this?"

"An old Chinese tonic," he lied. "You know how the land-lady likes to push her wares on us."

That was true. The old Chinese widow ran a market down stairs, but saw to her tenants like a mother-hen. Gifting him traditional medicines and nutrition tips, saying he was "too skinny and pale". He saw and heard the young couple receiving the same treatment. He was surprised she didn't claim the little girl for herself given her desire to declare herself a mother.

"And it works?" she scoffed.

"Surprisingly so," he lied again. "Your child's sick."

"I know," she sighed. "The doctors keep telling us she's just colicky, and her cough will go away but...why am I telling you this?"

"Hell if I know," he shrugged handing the little terror to the girl. "Drink that and leave. I won't have the land-lady thinking I'm some sort of pervert."

"You're what," she laughed. "four years at most older than me?"

"And an adult in _every_ culture," he retorted his eyes on the baby.

"Thank you for your help," she rolled her eyes and downed the potion. "How'd you get her to sleep so solidly?"

_Sleeping potion, you silly muggle_. "As strange as it would seem, she can sleep if she's not being yelled at."

"You...You..." she seethed. "Thanks for the help. I'll leave you and mind my own business."

* * *

_Yelling again?_ He chose to hide among muggles in London, he could have stayed in Hogsmede, he'd be starting his position in Hogwarts in September, that would have been easier. But he held out hope that if he hid out among muggles he might find where Lily was hiding out. Come across something that wouldn't stand out to someone else. But that wasn't going to happen. He ruined his chances when he called her a mudblood all those years ago. Now James Potter was living his fantasy, a family with Lily. Something small stupid and foolish. And there was no guarantee those two weren't exactly like the shouting couple next door.

"If you two can stop for one night!" he pounded on the door.

To his surprise the door opened and a boy with messy dark brown hair a head shorter than him dragged him in by the arm. "Please tell me you're seeing this too!"

"What I see is a-" then he turned to see what the boy was talking about.

The bushy haired girl reached out to the crying baby on the floor while blankets, books and a single stuffed cat flew around her. The baby was magical...these two idiots might have been in over their head if the child was a muggle, but now he saw the panic for what it was.

"If I help you, you can't tell anyone!" he hissed.

The boy's black eyes widened, but he nodded, olive face drained in fear. "We'll do anything, just help us."

Severus drew his wand and made quick work of clearing the way. He picked up the crying baby and examined her. She was so tiny, so pale and fragile. He had no clue what was wrong with the crying and wheezing mess in his hands. The chance to puzzle her out was taken from him when the girl took her and clasped her to her chest.

"What the hell was that?!" she cried.

"Magic, and you'll do well to be quiet about it," he hissed. "For her sake."

"Did you just threaten my child?" she spat.

"None of this makes sense..." the boy said going to the girl's side. "Tell us what's going on."

He saw it. The three of them together, so young, terrified and desperate. But he knew he was wrong to assume they were like his own parents. As confused as they seemed, as sick as all three of them were, there was an undeniable bond between them. If he could get them through this, he didn't know if he would finally feel at peace for his mistakes, or if the jealousy would rob him of that.

"You might want to sit," he said pointing to the table piled high with notes and diagrams. "It's a lot to take in."

"So magic is real, and our daughter is a witch?" Ren coughed. "This can't be happening..."

"How can she even be a witch?" Catherine asked. "Ren and I are...what did you call us? Muggles?"

"No one knows why some are born magical and some aren't," he said. "But there's no denying what she is. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you can work with her abilities."

"What she is..." Catherine looked at her daughter. "Our daughter isn't some kind of freak!"

_You're a freak, Lily..._

"I never said she was a freak!" he snapped. "She's gifted and you should be proud to have a child like her! If you can't appreciate that you should seriously consider surrendering guardianship to someone who will!"

Catherine swore and rolled her eyes. "Calm down, I was upset about your words. I can accept she is..."

"A witch," he finished after a long pause. "And her acting up is likely tied to her illness. Everything you described sounds like she needed attention. Your muggle doctors have failed to diagnose her and you've been ignoring her in favour of your schooling."

"That's unfair!" Ren said taking his eyes off the baby for the first time. "We've been doing everything we can for Hermione!"

"Are you?" he said pointedly. "Would she say the same?"

The two looked at each other then at their daughter. Silence pervaded, even the baby shut up for the time being. A knot formed in his stomach as the moment became overwhelmingly sentimental. He could see tears well up in their eyes. The discomfort only intensified when Catherine looked up at him.

"What can we do now?"

"I'm not asking you to give her up. Just to do what's best for her."

"And what if giving her up is what's best for her?" Catherine choked.

"Will it be better if she's raised by people like her?" Ren asked eyes fixed on his daughter.

"I don't know," he sighed. "Plenty of muggles raise witches and wizards that turn out fine. I just want to take her to a magic hospital. That is all."

* * *

"The child's name, sir?"

Severus didn't ask for the muggles' last name...he wished he had, but then again he didn't want the wrong people knowing where he had been spending his time, or who he had been helping.

"I found the poor thing," he replied. "Can you help her?"

"We're going to have to regrow poorly developed portions of her lungs," the healer told him. "She'll have to stay overnight."

"Of course," he said eyes on the girl. "I'll return for her then."

"You?" the healer eyed him. "If you found her we should send out aurors in the area you found her. Someone might be missing their child."

The healer was a old woman half his size, but he felt her gaze burn through him. He made more of a mess than he expected. "I found the girl while I was leaving a late-night muggle take-away. Chinese, I think."

"I see," she sighed. "That describes quite a bit of London."

A round of questioning later and the auror investigating him determined no one reported a child missing. If no one claimed her after the hospital hold she would be given to a wizard orphanage. He left still unsure if he did the right thing.

* * *

"She'll be fine," he told the young sleepless couple.

"Thank God," Ren sighed. "And this will be it?"

"I think so," he said before noting the two had been hunched over books. "You both know it's July...?"

"If we both take courses during the summer we can graduate in two years instead of four," Catherine said meekly. "We'd both be surgeons before Hermione starts school."

"And keeping busy helps," Ren admitted looking up from his own book. Tired tear-filled eyes reminded him that these were literal children. "We're out of our depth, but we've always been good at this..."

"At least you can admit it," Severus backed up, uncomfortable with the admission. "Have you decided what you will do?"

"We did talk about it," Catherine inhaled sharply holding her daughter's toy to her. "If we took the year, we could go back. We'd both be on track and still be able to give Hermione the attention she needs. Hell, if we waited for her to be older we could finish pre-med and become dentists...it'd be something."

"We'd do whatever it takes to ensure she's happy and healthy." Ren said. "We love our daughter...we want what's best for her. Even if it means..."

"The disgust with which you said dentists makes me question it," he said coolly. "If you sacrifice your own happiness for her, can you honestly say you won't grow to resent her?"

"Of course not!" Catehrine hissed. "We love our daughter. We want what's best for her!"

"And is this truly what you think is best for her?" he replied calmly. "Look around you. Look in the mirror. You two are falling apart. How can you take care of her when you can barely take care of yourselves? And can you honestly say you will never have another meltdown if she uses magic again?"

Silence pervaded. The two weighed their options and Severus thought about the little girl, sedated and alone while healers fixed what their muggle doctors were too late to. He was doing what was right. No amount of tear-filled pleas would convince him otherwise. She would stand a chance in the orphanage. If the three of them kept as they were, all three of them would be dead before September.

"You would find a family for her?" Catherine choked after minutes of silence. "I trust you about as far as I can throw you...but you're right."

"Cat!" Ren gulped. "I thought we talked about this..."

"But what happens if she gets sick again? What if doctors can't help her?"

Ren bit his lip and gripped Catherine's hand. "They can save her?"

"Yes."

"We'll do what's best for her," he sighed.

Doing the right thing didn't feel right when he left the apartment with the couple in tears. He debated on erasing their memories, but too many knew about the child. It was better if they said they gave her up for adoption. Details were unimportant there.

* * *

"Are you sure about claiming her?" the healer asked.

He didn't plan it. But when he came to check on her, a healer placed her in his arms and something happened. His heart swelled as she looked up at him. Had anyone ever trusted him as much as that child did? The tiny hand wrapped around his finger sent a pleasant warmth throughout his body. He couldn't explain it, but some naive part of him felt as though he was given a second chance. He had messed so much up, but here was this tiny being totally dependent on him. He let so many down, but he could do right by her.

Perhaps it was selfish, but the child would benefit.

"You'll have to name her."

He didn't know how old exactly she was, but he could tell she was nearly a year old. She was probably used to the name her birth parents gave her. Hermione was a nice name, and he knew the temptation to name her Lily was too great if he didn't honour that. That would not only reveal too much, but it would be unfair to her.

"Hermione," he cooed still unsure what possessed him."It's alright, love, Daddy's got you."

She looked up at him in response, blinking away tears. He wondered if she would remember her muggle family and how long she would.

"You'll grow into it, little one," he didn't know if he meant her name or his guardianship.

He left Saint-Mungo's that day with Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape as his daughter and reassured himself that this was the best decision for both of them.


	2. Book1 Chapter1: Early Childhood

Dumbledore let Severus raise the girl at Hogwarts to allow him to continue both his roles as a teacher and within the Order. Any gratitude he felt at his generosity was tempered by the constant frustrations with the other staff.

"Oh my!" McGonagall cooed over Hermione. "How old is she?"

"A year," he said clasping her to his chest. "Old enough perhaps to feel objectified by the constant crooning I'm sure."

"Oh come now, Severus," McGonagall scoffed. "She doesn't seem unhappy."

"She's a year old," he reminded her. "She can't really tell you can she?"

"Children are so sensitive to messages from beyond!" Trelawney said. "You should hone her skills while she's still young."

"I thought our energy clouded your third eye," Severus grumbled.

"But I have to think about what's best for the child!"

"I believe that's my job," he hissed.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I did warn you, Severus."

"I didn't expect a room filled with adults to treat a child like a pet. I thought the point of this was to simply tell them all that Hermione would be living with me."

"Don't blame them for wanting to meet her. They'll be spending the next seventeen years with her too," Dumbledore noted.

"She's nearly a year-old, headmaster," he said. "She's not ready for such a fuss."

"Is it she's not ready or you?" Dumbledore asked.

To answer for herself, Hermione burrowed her face into Severus's shoulder, shying away from Dumbledore's touch.

"You have a very empathetic little girl," Dumbledore observed.

He didn't know how true that was. She had picked up on her birth parents' stress easily and when he himself was uneasy Hermione would attempt to comfort him. But he was certain right now that she had felt the same way he did about this welcoming.

"Did you say nearly a year?" Sprout asked. "When's her birthday?"

_I never asked... _He hesitated holding his child closer to him.

"Let's see the child," Trelawney approached the two of them.

Hermione locked eyes with the bug-eyed woman wrapped in shawls before turning to him with teary brown eyes. He noted as Trelawney drew closer Hermione returned to burying her face in his robes.

"There's something of September about this child."

"You're right about something," he said. "She turns one on the first of September. A very busy day indeed, so, unfortunately, your efforts are best placed elsewhere."

_Did you just make up a birthday for Hermione so no one would acknowledge her? She'll never know..._

* * *

"The instructions were on the board, Mr. Duke," Severus groaned.

"Sorry, Professor," the small Gryffindor muttered.

"It's your classmates you should apologize to. This abysmal potion cost them five points."

"Thanks, Daniel!" the class of first years hissed.

"I can make it more, Gryffindors," he responded.

That shut the lot up. He turned to Hermione who sat very still on his desk. He thought this would be a disaster, but the little one fared much better in the classroom than she would in the care of Hagrid or house-elves. Something he was advised to do, but she was fine. Even around the bumbling idiots meant to make sorry excuses for potions.

"I don't think so, little girl," he whispered picking her up before she got into the inkwell.

Hermione's lips formed a thin line and she looked down. Obviously frustrated to have her plans foiled.

"Mr. Duke will try again and we'll all stay here until he gets it right."

A wave of complaints filled the room. Cries of injustice echoed through the dungeons before the noise bothered Hermione enough to justify her own complaints.

"SILENCE!"he roared.

The lot of them shut up once more and he regarded the twenty first-years staring at him in shock. Hermione, too, fell silent staring up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes and pointed to the door."The rest of you may go. I swear there's a dolt like Duke in every year."

"This is the third time now?" Severus asked hoovering over the boy. "We're not getting any younger, and I do believe Hermione will be graduated before we're finished here."

The boy picked up the pace. He watched as Duke nervously dumped ingredients to the cauldron and refrained from telling him when he dumped the wrong things in until he grabbed far too much lacewood. "Wait, Duke, don't-"

But it was too late the cauldron combusted and smoke filled the room. His eyes filled with smoke, stinging as he reached for Hermione. His heart leapt to his throat as he heard thump close to his feet. Reaching through the smoke, blindly he grabbed her and the boy dragging them out of the room.

"What the hell is wrong with you, boy?" he coughed.

"I- is she bleeding?"

He examined her finding that she was indeed bleeding, she had hit her forehead off the corner. "Dear God, Hermione!"

She didn't respond. Her eyes closed and body limp. He shook her gently trying to urge her to wake up. Was this it? She was barely a year-old and she was killed by some idiot who was too lazy to measure? He had promised to do better by her. Was she better off with the muggles? "Hermione!" He shook her again, less gently. "Come on, dear, it's time to wake up."

He came to his senses and ran to the hospital wing.

"Severus," Madam Pomfrey gasped.

"Is she okay?!" he shouted shoving Hermione into her arms.

"Daniel Duke told me about the incident. You need to be examined too. Lie down."

It was a miracle, both he and the stupid boy were absolutely fine. It was Hermione he was worried about. Did she inhale too much smoke? She had her lungs regrown, they should be fine, but where she was so small...He demanded to know what was going on with her.

"She's fine." Pomfrey said placing her in his arms. "She had a concussion. You shouldn't have panicked."

He eyed her chest rising and falling, her closed eyes, tears caught in her long brown eyelashes. How could she look so peaceful after her injury? He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead, a very tiny scar formed above her right eye. Barely perceptible, but a mark of his own failures of a father. The boy's incompetence was easy to blame, but he shouldn't have had her there.

"I can't tell you if it's from hitting her head or being shaken afterwards. Were you trying to rouse her?"

"Yes, did I..." he stared at his daughter. "Will she be okay?"

"She will," she said. "If anything happens again, bring her here immediately. It could have been much worse."

_Could have been much worse_... Severus wondered how things might have turned out if he hadn't come to his senses when he did. After everything his own parents put him through, how could he hurt his own child? His little girl could have been seriously hurt, and all because he panicked. Something he was not prone to doing. How could his composure leave him at such a crucial moment? He then thought about every time he was tempted to silence her in that fashion. Sure, he never hurt her, but would he do it now? No, he only shook her to revive her...It was still wrong. He couldn't mess this up. She was all he had.

"Maybe you can send her away until she's older?" she suggested. "This isn't a place for a baby."

"No, I'm all she has," he said. "We'll just have to be more careful."

* * *

"Really?" Hermione gasped.

"Libby swears it's true, Miss Hermione!" the house-elf Libby crossed her heart. "They says there's a spider the size of a carriage in the forest! Eats men it does!"

"But that's not as scary as the creature in the chamber of-"

"That's enough stories for today," Severus said scooping up a flour-covered Hermione. He brushed the flour off her nose and cheeks with his thumb."I don't expect you did any reading or writing today?"

"Yes, I did!" she dug a piece of paper from her pocket before presenting a toothless grin. "I finished _Spelling Before Spelling_ and started writing down stories of the half-elves."

The charcoal smudged, but the messy scrawl was impressive for a four-year-old child. He would go over it with once they got to his quarters. "I see, but it seems you also did some baking?"

"Maybe..." she said casting her gaze to the floor.

"Maybe," he sighed. "Well, I hope you enjoyed your break because there's plenty to do this afternoon."

Later that afternoon a now clean Hermione sat on his desk practising her letters with a quill. Severus would look up every now and then to look at her progress before returning to his marking. She had more control with the charcoal, but her tendency to touch her face while in thought made it a poor choice. The quill and inkwell proved as messy an endeavour. Though she was beginning to get the hang of it. Simple words and sentences were legible, that was all he could hope for at this age. He silently noted that before gathering Hermione's hair behind her shoulders.

"Hermione Elizabeth," he said. "You're going to make a mess if you get your hair in the ink."

"Sorry, sir," she replied.

"Just pay more attention," he patted the top of her head.

Minutes passed in silence and Severus had just finished the last of the fourth year papers unimpressed with the Ravenclaws' self-satisfaction in their long bibliographies. For a house meant for the wise, many seemed afraid to state an original idea. Honestly, so many of the students seemed bereft of ideas. He wondered why his students all seemed to put forth only the minimal effort required. His thoughts were interrupted by the snapping of a quill.

"Shit," Hermione whispered staring at the broken blade.

"Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape," he snapped. "You watch your damn language!"

"English...?" she squeaked. Her large brown eyes stared at him as she recoiled backward.

She was four. The desperate doll-like eyes moistened and her olive skin paled staring at him in fear. It was clear she had no idea what she did wrong.

"The word you just said is a very bad word," he explained.

"But you say it all the time," she cast her eyes at her dangling barefeet.

_Well, shit, _Severus thought. "And when you're a grown-up you can say whatever you want. Until then you don't get to say that word."

Hermione glanced up at him with her eyes but her head down, her shame seemed to go away, but he could sense the caution in her voice. "When will I be a grown-up?"

Severus couldn't help but smirk at this. He placed his hand on the top of her head leaned inches from her face. "That will be a _very, very, very _long time from now, my girl."

"Bullocks," she sighed with a dramatic eyeroll.

"Are you testing me, little girl?" he forced himself to keep his voice even.

"What?" she asked.

"Okay," he sighed. "New rule! Don't say any word you hear Daddy or any other grown-up say under their breath."

"Yessir," she nodded. "What about-"

"Or students!" he added. "Deal?"

"Deal."

Severus waved his wand and repaired Hermione's quill. He then took her little right hand and positioned it around the quill. "Try holding the quill like this. You'll have more control over it and you'll be less likely to break it."

* * *

Hermione stared out the window watching the students milling about above her. Younger students played chase and older ones simply sat around in the sunshine talking. She yearned to lay on the grass and loved the idea of soaking up the sunshine. The closest she got was when her father or Hagrid took her out to help harvest plants. Hagrid was nice enough to let her play with his dog, Fang, and watch creatures in the forest. Until her father found out that was.

"Are you kidding me, Hagrid?!" he shouted. "Do you think the forest is even remotely safe for a six-year-old? She could have been hurt...or worse. What the hell were you thinking?"

And so started Hermione's term in their living quarters. She turned her attention to the book in her lap. She wondered how many times she had read the Dumbledore's old copy of Beetle and the Bard. Her attention turned back to the tiny drawing at the top of the title page. A triangle with a circle inside it divided in halves by a verticle line. She felt it meant something, but she didn't know what.

"Do you know what that symbol means?" she asked her father when she first opened it.

"Just a silly doodle the headmaster drew, probably when he was your age." he dismissed. "Why don't you read the first story to me?"

She couldn't deny her father had a gift for diverting her attention. He was an expert at it. She resented it, but had to assume there was a reason for it. Which only made her want to know the meaning behind the symbol more. The books she had access to had said nothing of the symbol. Though most of the books in their living quarters were either children's books or books she was not allowed to touch. When she did, all she found were books on spells, charms and potions. Often with her father's messy scrawl in the margins. Some of them were difficult to read, and it wasn't like she could ask for help in decoding the words. He grew suspicious when she had a nightmare that was eerily close to an illustration in one of those books.

"How the hell did you get in the windowsill?" her father said.

"Dad?" she scrambled to face him and jump to the floor. "You're early."

"I wanted to check on you," he caught her before she hit the floor. "Thank Merlin for that. Did an eight-foot climb and jump seem safe to you?"

"I do it all the time," she admitted. "I like to watch the students...Maybe if I was allowed outside-"

"If you actually interacted with those students you'd know why I can't have you running around with them," he knelt down to her eye level. "They are incredibly cruel to those who are different and smaller. A six-year-old is both. Do you understand?"

"Yessir," she sighed.

"I know this must be very frustrating," he placed a hand on the top of her head. "But I'm just doing what's best for you. I will always keep you safe. That's a promise."

"From what?" she asked.

"From everything that could ever harm you," he kissed her forehead. "I love you very much, dear."

"I love you too, Dad," she said hugging him. "But-"

"Ah, ah, but nothing, love," he pressed a finger to her lips. "Father knows best after all."

* * *

"Very good, Miss!" Libby exclaimed hugging Hermione.

Hermione's face flushed and she covered her face with her hair to hide the sheepish smile. "Thanks."

The house-elf stayed with her during the days. She imagined her father chose Libby because she was literate in both English and French from her previous masters' assignments. Libby not only tutored her in French and English, but told her stories of her past. Libby had spent the day going over wizarding history, something she was very good at given her two-hundred years of service. She also secretly taught her Elvish and Goblin, something she was happy to do.

"Libby is very pleased with Miss, indeed!" Libby smiled. "A very good memory for readings!"

"I like reading," she shrugged standing. Hermione now stood a head taller the tiny big-eyed house-elf. She had vague memories of Libby towering over her. "It's something that I'm good at...it might be the only thing I'm good at."

"Miss Hermione is very good at languages and mathematics!" Libby assured her. "And riddles!"

"You don't need to reassure me, Libby," she said putting her book back on the shelf. "I know about magical contracts...heaping praise on me is beyond what you're asked, and has to be hard for you. I don't want you to feel like you have to pretend you like me."

"But Libby does like Miss Hermione," Libby said taking her hand. "Miss Hermione is very kind to Libby."

"But you have to tutor me..." she sighed. "Tell me, Libby, if you could do anything in the world, anything at all, what would you do?"

Libby paused a moment staring at her with wide brown eyes, bat-wing ears dropped to her thin cheeks and before averting her gaze. "Miss has asked Libby a very inappropriate question." she gulped. "Miss shouldn't ask house-elves such questions!"

"I'm sorry, Libby," Hermione pulled her hand back and stared at her feet. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Libby's face relaxed and she smiled. "Miss Hermione should just be more careful of questions she asks."

"Thank you, Libby," her father said appearing at the table. The man was surprisingly quiet and often seemed to appear from nowhere like an oversized bat. "What did you go over today?"

"Libby reviewed chapter 3 in _Magical and Mundane History of the British Isles, _did multiplication tables and divisions and food words in French. Miss Hermione did very well when Libby quizzed her," she proudly presented him with the papers.

Why was she so proud? Libby was too smart to play nanny and kitchen maid, and she was too sweet to be enslaved. How could she act like some proud teacher or parent when she had no choice in the matter. Hermione's guilt swallowed her. If Hermione had just stayed put Libby wouldn't have to put up with her.

"Libby will see you tomorrow after breakfast, Miss," she said. "Have a good night."

After Libby vanished from their living quarters her father turned to face her. He leaned over her, black eyes staring through her, his nose centimetres from her face and greasy black hair nearly brushing over her. "I wonder, exactly what inappropriate question did you ask her?"

Hermione shrank in her spot, folding arms around her and bringing her tense shoulders to her ears while letting her hair fall over her body. She wanted to disappear, but found her courage and straightened herself, meeting his gaze. Whatever he would yell at her couldn't be worse than anything poor Libby or any other house-elf had been through.

"I asked her if she could do anything she wanted, what she would do," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh, thank Merlin," he sighed in relief before sitting beside her.

He was always so unpredictable. She was certain she had angered him, but now his expression was calm, if not greatly relieved. Hermione never knew what to expect from him, he was so easy to anger, but he could also be gentle and warm with her. She wondered if she would ever know where she stood with him.

"What did you think I asked her?" she asked.

"That doesn't matter right now," he picked her up and placed her on his knee. "Why did you ask her that?"

_It matters to me,_ she thought. Instead she let it go and turned her head to face him. "I've been reading about the history of wizards and house-elves. I know how magical contracts work. I-" she sighed and looked at her hands.

"You...?" he said brushing her hair out of her face.

"Libby and all the other house-elves are slaves!" she cried. "Simply because they're house-elves they're forced to work, magically bound to do whatever their masters ask. No one ever asks them what they want. They watched me in the kitchens because they had to, they clean up after everyone without a word of thanks, and poor Libby...She had no say in the matter, you just got to choose a literate house-elf and now she's stuck with me!"

"My silly little girl," he smiled wiping her cheek with his thumb. "I know it doesn't seem fair, and it isn't. If we lived in a perfect world they would be as free as you or me, but we don't. House-elves are very proud creatures, and asking if they are happy makes them think you don't think they're doing well."

"But that's not what I meant by it!"

"I know, love," he said. "But centuries of servitude-"

"Slavery."

"Don't interrupt grown-ups, Hermione," he warned. "Anyway, they've been in their lot for a very long time, and many of them can't imagine life another way. Sometimes imagining how life could have been is very painful, so they don't. Mattering to their masters is all they can hope for."

"Will that ever change?" she squeaked.

"I hope so," he smiled. "But it won't be in our life-times. It's something they'll have to figure out for themselves."

"But that's not fair!"

"Life's not fair," he sighed. "All we can do is learn to live with it."

"Yessir," she sighed. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I can do all the work myself," she said. "It's bad enough Libby has to do so much. I'm extra, and I feel bad that she has to pretend to like me."

"She's not pretending, Hermione," he assured her. "I went to the kitchens to look for someone to look after you and Libby volunteered. Don't go getting a big head, but she said that she missed looking after you and would be honoured if I chose her. She said you were such always such a sweet girl and she would do anything for you."

"Really?" she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"If you want you can ask her yourself and command her to be honest. She'll be magically compelled to tell the truth."

"No," she said thinking of Libby. "I don't want to force her to do anything."

* * *

"There you are," Severus groaned.

The little girl huddled under the table was barely visible beneath her mass of brown curls and the massive volume in her lap. She closed the book with an eyeroll. "I thought you said I was allowed to go about the castle freely?"

"I believe the exact words I used were with an adult," he snarled. "And don't roll your eyes."

"Doesn't Madam Pince count?" she asked.

"She would if she were here," he pointed at the ground. "Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape, get out from under there _now_!"

"Yessir," she obliged looking around at the darkening library. "Where is she?"

"At supper," he examined her, relief and anger warring inside him at her unharmed appearance. "It's the sorting ceremony and the library is closed. Something you might have noticed if you weren't cowering beneath a table."

"But you're the one that said that I-" she protested.

"I've had enough of your cheek, little girl," he yelled. "This is clearly a privilege you aren't ready for! I was worried sick! Well, it's not something I have to worry about anymore, because you, young lady, are _grounded_!"

He watched the silent solemn child put away the volumes wondering if she even finished the volumes she spent all afternoon and evening reading. Such a voracious reader, yet the habit didn't keep her busy enough to keep from trouble. He wondered what else could keep a bored child from trouble. "We're not getting any younger," he commented as she pushed a chair to a shelf and stacked a number books on it.

She struggled on her tiptoes, the books shifting beneath her weight. He wondered if one of them might fall off the chair. It was a short fall, but what if she landed on her head again?

"Are you so determined to destroy yourself?" he snapped lifting her off the precarious perch. He waved his wand and everything was as it once was.

Later that night Severus found Hermione curled up in her bed reading by the dim light of the glow-globe set on her bedside table. Most parents would be proud he imagined at their child's nose always stuck in a book. But Hermione buried herself in whatever she could read not just to occupy herself, but to spite him. After everything he had been through it irked him that some little girl's ire upset him so much. He used to be her world and now she gave him the cold shoulder?

"You'll ruin your eyes," he said sitting next to her. "What are you reading anyway?" his eyes scanned the newspaper. "_The Daily Prophet?_"

"What are Death Eaters?" she asked in a small voice.

A knot formed in his stomach. How to explain that to a child... How much did she know? The headline read _Suspected Death Eaters Interrogated. How Many Are Hiding in Your Community? _He took the paper and folded it, setting it aside before drawing her closer. "It's nothing you have to worry about. How does a six-year-old get a hold of the_ Daily Prophet?"_ he asked.

"Seven," Hermione muttered.

_Shit, you literally chose her birthday and forgot it!_ He sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Either way, this is not something I want you reading right now. It won't do you any good."

"Yessir," she sighed.

"I imagine that article left you with a lot of questions," he said brushing her hair out of her face. "You're not old enough for the answers to a lot of those questions. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, her wide eyes and her two front teeth digging into her bottom lip telegraphed both her concern and her curiosity.

"All you need to know is that you're safe," he said touching the faint scar on her forehead. "And what did I tell you about keeping you safe?"

"That you will always keep me safe?"

"And I will never let any harm come to you."

Hermione burrowed into his chest and threw her arms around him. "Dad?"

"Yes...?"

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Of course, love."

* * *

"How old are these books?" Hermione coughed pulling a dust-covered volume from the shelf. "Some of these are older than me, Dad."

"My dear, every book in this cupboard is older than you," Severus said. "In fact, most of them are older than me."

"Really?" she turned from the ladder in amazement.

"You know what, Hermione," he sighed. "We can discuss age when you have at least one decade behind you."

"Why do I feel like you'll change that requirement next year?" she called down to him.

"Focus, little girl." he chastised. "It's been a good while since the cupboard's been cleaned out. Some of them may come apart at a touch."

"Yessir," she sighed before brandishing a particularly moth-eaten volume. It fell apart at its spine, what pages were left fell to the base of the ladder.

"Will you be careful?" he snapped gathering the pages. "Last thing I need is for you to fall and destroy the shelves."

"Yessir," she sighed.

Hermione loaded her arms with a stack of books and descended the ladder. She got to the third wrung when a sudden crack came from beneath her foot. She dropped the books and tried to grab the sides. A flash of brown and navy fell plummeted the near ten feet. Severus grabbed his wand and caught her in mid-air. She stared at the ground and gasped before meeting his gaze. He gently lowered her before rushing to her side.

"I believe I told you to be careful," he sighed cupping her face in his hands. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she breathed before turning to the cupboard. "Don't think I can say the same for the ladder...or the books."

"I've been meaning to replace that blasted thing," he said placing a hand on the top of her head. "Only so many times I can repair the rungs before the wood is done."

"Really?" she knelt to the floor and gingerly picked up the books.

"If you only learn one thing from me," he knelt to her level. "Magic can only do so much. Eventually, everything and everyone comes to an end, always."

Hermione's face softened, she titled her head and took his hand in her own tiny one. "Are you okay, Dad?"

He cleared his throat and lifted her off the ground. "Which is exactly why you need to be careful. I'm not losing you to some ladder mishap."

"Yessir," she nodded.

Perhaps nine was young for a lesson in mortality. But wasn't he doing her an even greater disservice if he didn't enlighten her to some of the harsher realities of the world? Sure, he could hide Death Eaters and more specific atrocities from her...but he wondered if she was ready for the world. Nearly eight years he sheltered her from everything he could. But what if she lost everything she ever loved when she grew up? Severus came upon her completely by accident, and if it wasn't for her, he would have nothing but the memory of a dead woman. Hermione was all he had, and he had no clue how to raise her. How often had he wondered if he was doing her justice? The idea that she might have been better off with the muggles gnawed at him daily. He wondered how much longer he could keep her safe without hurting her.

"Dad?"

"Hermione, there's something I need to tell y-"

A quick rapping on the door interrupted him. Unsure if he was relieved or frustrated he set Hermione down and answered the door to find a fuming McGonagall and a red-headed first-year Slytherin boy by the ear.

"What happened here?" he asked gesturing them inside.

"O'Malley simply thought it would be hilarious if Percy Weasley sprouted ears of corn from his ears!" McGonagall seethed releasing the boy.

"It was a harmless prank, I swear, professors!" O'Malley begged.

"Harmless?" she scoffed. "The boy's in the hospital wing!"

"And it's hardly your first offence," Severus noted.

"I was provoked-"

"Silence, boy," he warned before turning back to McGonagall. "I'll deal with the boy, thank you."

"Very well."

McGonagall left and he turned his attention to O'Malley. An awkward, thin boy stretched over a tall frame with pale freckled skin and flaming red hair that fell in ringlets passed his shoulders. The boy showed promise but seemed not to put the same efforts into his classwork as he did into his stupid schemes. The awkward boy was a target for bullying the past few months, earning him some pity from him. O'Malley spent the last chance pity bought him.

"You've had a very busy first term. Emmett Jackson and his little gang spent the last month with filthy words written on their foreheads," he counted. "Thomas Cromwell was petrified and covered in rubbish and dragged into the common room. You spiked Trevor Langdon's drink with a love-potion to have him madly pursue the Gryffindor seeker so you and the rest of the school could shout disgusting, homophobic slurs at them. That alone should have earned your expulsion. But then you circulate a pamphlet revealing nasty rumours about everyone in your year. You have spent every weekend in detention and you still found time to curse Matilda Banks' mouth shut. And now you've cursed Percy Weasley. Did I miss anything?"

"That's about it, sir," he said meekly.

"Oh, cheeky are we?" he seethed. "I don't think you understand the position you're in, boy."

"But, sir, I was-"

"Provoked? Do tell me what your excuse is this time! I could buy the rest of them. Your targets were cruel to you and the pamphlet was easy to ignore. But what moronic idea possessed you to attack Percy Weasley? The boy is pretentious to be sure, but hasn't done anything to harm anyone. Or are you telling me the boy is simply so hard to tack he's never been caught?"

"He said that I-"

"Oh, so the boy had the decency to speak to you and that earned him vegetables sprouting from his ears? It astonishes me you've failed to make any friends with that behaviour!" he laughed. "Has it ever occurred to you that _you_ were the problem? No, you're too wrapped in self-pity to imagine _you _could possibly be doing anything wrong. You are just like those others you saw fit to punish. I've seen hundreds of boys like you in my time. Cruel and twisted, convinced the world owes them something."

"But, sir," O'Malley started. "They were harmless pranks!"

"Don't you dare interrupt me, boy!" he roared. "And I've seen enough 'harmless pranks' to know that is _never _what they are! You have caused serious, irreparable damage. But no, certainly _you're_ the victim here. Not the other students you have sent to the hospital! Give me one reason I shouldn't expel you right now. It certainly isn't going to be strength of character or your abysmal academics."

The boy shrank his large blue eyes scanning the room, his face drained of any colour it once had. He was clearly scrambling for a reason. He opened his mouth but no sound escaped his lips. Severus had given the boy every chance now, and he was blowing this one last reprieve. No one would miss the likes of this child, and he would be relieved of the near weekly lectures and calls to action. His favouritism of his own house only went so far, and he was happy to be rid of the boy.

"The wand," he held out his hand. "Hand it over, Mr. O'Malley. You're done here."

The boy stood there dumbfounded, mouth agape. Paralysed, fear etched in his face. O'Malley was so pathetic in that moment that he almost felt sorry for him. He was about to ask for the wand again when he heard something drop. They both turned their attention to the girl they'd forgotten was in the room.

Hermione had dropped the books and simply stared at him. Her already large eyes grew to an even larger size, her mouth agape as she regarded him with disbelief. Eight years of raising her, but not once had she looked at him the way she was now. Was it fear of him or pity for the boy? Both? He couldn't know, but a knot formed in the back of his throat. Could he really expel him in front of her?

When Potter would attend he would get his chance to redeem himself. But Hermione was his second chance at a life worth living. She would never know that she saved him much more than the other way around. Could he strip O'Malley, who, if he were honest, reminded him so much of himself, of the same chance? No, not while his own second chance stared at him pleading for him not to.

"Today's your lucky day, O'Malley!" he snapped. "I've decided to give you another chance. Do _not_ make me regret it, because I promise you will regret it more than I do. Now get the hell out of my office!"

He obliged disappearing on the other side of the door within seconds. He didn't think he'd ever seen a student so quick to leave his office. Let alone a Slytherin. He hoped he was smart enough to keep his head down for the next six years.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" he sighed.

"No, sir."

* * *

"No, hit!" Hermione told George Weasley tugging on his sleeve.

"Fine," George shrugged. "Hit me."

Fred laid a duce of clubs on George's King of Hearts and Nine of Diamonds. "I guess you win."

"How did you do that, kid?" Lee Jordan asked.

"Kid?" she scoffed. "I'm two years younger than you!"

"Isn't she cute, Fred?" George pinched her cheeks.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed the twins' reclaimed muggle deck. "It's easy, there are 52 cards in the deck right?"

"Yes."

"Then there is a one in fifty-two chance of any card being in the deck. But when four cards are revealed the chances are bigger. Then you remember there are four of each card. So the chances are better for cards that haven't been revealed. For instance, all four two's were in the deck, while two of the sevens were in the discard pile and-"

"Are you little idiots teaching my nine-year-old to count cards?"

Of course he found her. He told her that she was allowed to roam the courtyard and attempt to socialize with the first and second years on Saturdays. She hadn't had much luck. "Snape's foundling", most avoided her like the plague. The advice and lesson was the closest she'd come all afternoon to social interaction. And as expected, he physically removed her from the circle. She knew her father wasn't the monster others said he was, and she defended most of what he did...at least mentally. However, she resented being picked up like a toddler every time he didn't like where she was. It wasn't fair.

"Actually," Fred began.

"She's teaching us," George finished.

"Is that so?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I like numbers," she mumbled.

"That's wonderful, little girl," his icy voice dripped in sarcasm. "You can work with all the numbers you want when you help me with the inventory. And I'll be deducting five points each from you lot. Gambling is strictly forbidden on school grounds. Hand the cards over."

"That didn't work out," her father said counting jars in the storeroom. "Maybe we'll try again next year."

It was March! How long would Hermione be relinquished to simply watch life pass her by? Nine years and she had not once been off the school grounds. Just two more years, she told herself. "You only have thirty-two rat spleens left." She jotted it down on her chart. "You'll have to harvest more."

"No protests?" he mused. "I don't know whether to be relieved or concerned."

"Of course not," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You do know best after all."

"I can do without the cheek, young lady," he said. "And I do know best. Never forget that."

* * *

"You want to leave for a whole month?" he said leafing through the proposal. "Are you mad, little girl?"

Outside of the incident with the Weasley twins she had been perfectly well-behaved all year. She had gone above and beyond, his office and their living quarters were spotless, she had always been keen to help him with his work, but now she took initiative. He should have expected something like this...

"Each of them are only four weeks in length, and they're educational," she noted.

Before him she had laid out twelve pamphlets for July summer camps throughout the country. Eleven wizarding camps that claimed to socialize younger children while teaching them something of use. One offered to teach basic arithmetic and literacy, some promised to conduct itself entirely in another language and other useless prattle. The twelfth was a muggle maths camp. She even wrote a two-page proposal and attached testimonials of students for each one. At nine-years-old she had spent almost the entire year gathering information in secret to present him with this in May. He wished he could channel such thorough efforts to something constructive.

"At the rate of which you read books I'm doubtful you need help with literacy and you've already proven yourself to be good enough at maths to count cards," he reminded her. "There's nothing in any of these programs I can't help with. Unless of course, you don't think I'm good enough for your liking. I understand, I only raised you and taught you everything you know."

Hermione stared at him for a moment before folding her arms across her arms and rubbing her shoulders. She knit her eyebrows and took a deep breath before responding. "That's not it at all, Dad," she sighed backing away from him. "It has nothing to do with you. I just-" she choked.

"You just what?" he said. "Go on, I'm listening."

"I've never met anyone my age. The idea of starting school without any friends..." she took another deep breath before averting her gaze. "It terrifies me."

"Is that what this is all about?" he laughed. "Almost every first year is in the exact same position as you," he approached her and placed a hand on her head. "You're such a silly little girl."

Hermione still stared at her feet, her hair completely covering her face and torso. He couldn't help but imagine that if she could grow it long enough she'd hide her entire body with it. She was so inscrutable. At times the girl was funny, well-spoken and very forward (perhaps often too much so!), but then she would shrink behind her hair, a book or whatever was available. He felt the older she got the less he understood her. What was he supposed to do?

"You should look at people when they're speaking to you, love," he sighed moving the locks out of her face. "What is all of this about?"

Hermione's face flushed a bright pink and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I told you something _terrified _me and you _laughed!"_ she squeaked. "I'm not crazy to worry about this."

"Did I call you crazy?" he replied coolly. "I don't seem to recall doing so..."

"'Are you mad, little girl?'" Hermione said. "Those were your exact words minutes ago."

She was right. Guilt and anger warred within him. The girl was nine, perhaps she was young enough he still had to curate his words. Perhaps he was a tad harsh, but who was she to speak to him in that way? He wasn't some unfeeling monster, but she couldn't be speaking to him like that. He was her father, some respect was due. She was raised better than this.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me like that again!" he snapped. "How could I have raised such an impetuous child? If you don't apologize right now I will give you something to cry about!"

_Jesus, sound familiar? _Those words reminded him too much of his own upbringing. Another way he managed to fail her, he hoped his count was more accurate than hers would be. He bit his tongue before drawing out a long breath. He thought in silence before he had the chance to say something else he'd regret Hermione broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she evened her tone. "You're right. This whole thing was stupid-"

"I never said that it was stupid," he evened his own tone. "I simply think you're misguided."

Hermione shrugged and backed up from him. "It doesn't matter. I'm a social retard anyway."

"A what?" he coughed.

Hermione dug her teeth into her lip and wrung her hands. "I don't know how to talk to people...It's like a game I don't know the rules to."

"And you thought being put in a sink-or-swim situation would help with that?"

"Yessir," she averted her gaze again. "Stupid, I know."

"Hermione, I-" he began. "Where the hell does a nine-year-old pick up a term like 'social retard'?"

"I've heard it a few times here or there," she shrugged.

"Here or there? How specific," he sighed. "I imagine you think you're protecting someone? Such a naive child. First rule of the real world; don't reward their cruelty with loyalty. They'll only be more cruel in return."

"Yessir," she said.

"I want to tell you that things will get better," he said. "But I'm not going to lie to you. You're not like those idiots and they will hurt you if you give them the chance. But they won't all be like that. Choose your friends wisely, love."

"Yessir," she nodded.


	3. B1 Chapter2: Last Summer

"Hi, Dad," Hermione greeted him as she hung the last of the monkshood from the drying lines.

"Someone's been busy this morning," he noted. "And I see you've addressed the newt eyes too. How are they sorted?"

"Left to right, newest in back and three years or older in the bin for the thestrals," she sighed.

"And so she listens!" Severus teased. "It's a miracle."

"Love you too, Dad," she laughed descending the ladder. "I already sorted the snake skins by breed and age, extracted and stored the toad stones and separated the mistletoe leaves and berries."

Hermione stood opposite him, leaning against the long work table to cross something off her list. Nearly eleven, she stood close to half his height now but was still all hair and eyes. Her easiest identifier was her bushy brown hair nearly reaching her waist, adding to what he considered a doll-like appearance when she bothered to move it out of her large almond-shaped eyes. Despite what his colleagues said, he still saw the four-year-old who used to hang herbs to dry from his shoulders. Though she had since then re-grown her front teeth. Which sadly were long enough to draw attention whenever she opened her mouth. He suspected they would earn her a hard time.

"And all before noon," he said placing a hand on her head. "Why?"

"Can't I do something nice for my poor over-worked father?" She offered.

"Historically?" he raised an eyebrow at her. "You normally wait for me to start. Ah, yes, I remember you saying something to the effect of me 'not having an intuitive system' and that you 'still have no chance of remembering it all unless I drew you a map'."

"Which you never did," she scanned the list. "But I did, so I have it down."

A reference book lay open to illustrate her point. It was very well drawn with extremely detailed calligraphy noting how and why things were situated in the still room. The number of details made him imagine an old textbook or map. The black ink was already dried, meaning she had done it before this morning. Isolation might have been hard on the child, but she had developed a wide range of skills and languages he imagined she wouldn't have if he had sent her away during her early childhood.

Another book caught his eye. A thin and short red volume with the word _Carrie_ written on the cover. He picked it up to flip through it. "What on earth are you reading?"

"Muggle novel that I found while cleaning the library," she said. "It's written kind of like police files to be more immersive. It's about a seventeen-year-old girl who develops telekinesis. I've finished it if you want to read it."

"You've finished a novel you picked up yesterday and did most of a day's work all before noon? And when did you draw this?"

"Last night," she said.

"I know you didn't eat and should I even ask if you slept?" he asked looking up from the book.

"I'm still young," she shrugged. "Was there anything else that we need to do today?"

"_You_ need to sleep," he gently ushered her away from the table.

"But it's eleven, what if I sleep all day?"

"I'll wake you later," he assured her.

"But-"

"But nothing," he said. "You can either go to bed or I can carry you."

"And I'm on my way."

* * *

Hermione woke up with a yelp and shudder. Relieved to find herself in her own bed, she tried to banish the images of teachers and students laughing from her mind. Covered in pig's blood and plastered with failing papers all over her body, the entire school pointed and laughed at her. Heather George muttering to Linda Curry that she was a "social retard" and the Weasley twins teasing her for thinking they could ever be friends. Amidst it all her father stood before her smirking and said:

"I told you so."

"I'm sorry?" she gasped and rubbed her eyes.

"I told you that if you read trash before bed you would have nightmares," her father said sitting next to her with a cup of tea. "I never wanted to censor what you read, but this seems hardly appropriate for a ten-year-old. No wonder you didn't sleep last night."

Hermione examined the tea he handed her, watching for some inconsistency in the steam or liquid. Not that she expected him to poison her, but some part of her never trusted drinks she herself didn't make.

"It's just tea, Hermione Elizabeth," he groaned. "I gave you one sleeping draught three years ago and you scrutinize everything I give you."

"Why do I feel like you gave me three impossibly long names so you can relish each syllable?"

He smirked and ruffled her hair. "I gave you impossibly long names to give myself time to cool down when you're in trouble. It may have saved your life once or twice."

Hermione smiled back at him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I suppose I should thank you for that."

"I imagine you should," he laughed.

There was a moment of silence, she could tell that he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth once or twice before his face flushed pink. He rose to his feet and folded his arms over his chest. "Did you need to talk about... _anything?_"

"Any...Dad, what are you-" she gulped before she felt her own face flush. "No, no, I already know about all that! We're good!"

He sighed in relief and his face returned to its usual pale tone. "I'm not going to ask how you know."

Hermione rose to her feet and looked at the rays of sun coming in from the high-up window. "What time is it?"

"Three," he replied.

"Three!" Hermione hit her forehead before muttering a swear in Elvish. "I told Hagrid I would-"

"He's perfectly capable of looking after the hippogriffs himself," he informed her. "Madam Pince also easily saw to surveying the library on her own and I got everything I needed to get done today done."

Hermione mentally counted promises she made. The first and last few days of summer vacation were always so busy. She had in one way or another promised to help everyone to help get the castle back in order. She turned to the bedside table to find her list before she remembered she left it in the still room.

"Professor Sprout cared for the mandrake seedlings," he now held her list. "Professor McGonagall's summer homework is sorted, and the headmaster filed away applications himself. You shouldn't promise so much. Not when you have so much to do."

"I had a plan to get it all done," she promised. "I had written a timeline on the list."

"Oh, yes," he reviewed the list. "Are you in possession of time-turner I was unaware of?"

"I doubt that that could escape your notice," she rolled her eyes while making the bed.

"We parents love being told the only reason our children behave is the risk of being caught."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes and turned to face him. His ever-watchful eye was not her only deterrent from misbehaving, but she wouldn't correct him. How was she both a chronic miscreant and something precious to be protected in his mind was beyond her. "Wait, if everything's done than what's the 'so much I have to do'?"

"You were supposed to paint over the graduating class's graffiti, " he counted.

_Guess that means they couldn't break through the enchantment..._she thought. _Last time I volunteer for something like that!_

"The eye-rolling, Hermione Elizabeth, it stops now," he instructed. "I'm not the little idiot who foolishly accepted the headmaster's challenge."

"Yessir," she nodded.

"Then I believe I asked you to copy the 1970's disciplinary papers," he continued. "That will take some time, but we have all summer. And I still want to see those French work sheets."

"Yessir," she nodded grabbing her bag and presenting him with the finished papers.

"Done already?" he mused. "How can you do calligraphy and still have such messy hand-writing? Perhaps next time prioritize legible hand-writing over speed. You'll have to do it again."

"Yessir," she nodded again taking the papers.

She recalled seeing him mark much messier writing than what she had done there. Much, much messier. Hermione fancied it was a ploy to keep her away from working with Hagrid. He never liked the idea of her going with him to look after the animals. No, he never liked her being out of his sight. Now that she was older he had less of a leg to stand on, but she could see he was trying. He believed the world was a cruel and wicked place, and that it would tear her apart the moment she entered it. An idiot could see that.

"I know this is frustrating, love," he placed a hand on the top of her head. "But once you start school, you'll have to do much more on very strict deadlines. You'll thank me when you're older."

"I completely understand, Dad," she smiled and tilted her head. "You know best, after all."

"You know, my dear, you are a terrible liar," he sighed. "But I do know best."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"See if you can finish copying those French sheets before supper and we'll see where you are after."

She grabbed a hard-covered notebook quill and ink well placing it in her bag. She then threw it over her shoulder before leaving getting ready to leave the room before her father took her arm.

"Where are you going?"

"I work better in the library," she explained. "I'll see you at supper, Dad. Love you."

"Forgetting something?" he said pointing at the tea and toast on the bedside table.

"Yes, thank you, Dad,"Hermione picked up a slice, taking a single bite, and downed the rest of the tea in one motion. "Okay, I'm off!"

"Don't be late!" he called after her.

* * *

"I have her busy enough that she'll be far from the third floor the whole summer," Severus assured Dumbledore.

"Poor child," he mused stroking his white beard. "But it's better she doesn't figure anything out."

"Poor child?" he rolled his eyes. "I'm not the one who has her painting a pointless mural on the entrance hall."

"She volunteered," Dumbledore chuckled.

"We both know how apt that child is at saying 'no' to tasks."

"Touche, Severus," he chuckled. "How far are you in your preparations?"

He summoned three bottles with different coloured liquids. "Two will enable the drinker to walk through the barrier. One will lead to back to Minerva's task. The other will lead forward to whatever the next step in your elaborate puzzle is. I'm brewing more as we speak."

"Your girl isn't the least bit curious?" McGonagall asked.

"Completely clueless," he assured her. "I'm more worried about the transport of Hagrid's newest acquisition."

"Fluffy's completely harmless!" Hagrid huffed.

"Harmless, perhaps," he said. "But I don't think the transit of a cerebus will be an easy task."

"We'll have him safely and discretely transported tonight," Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses. "He'll be brought in at two o'clock."

"We'll meet at the edge of the forest," McGonagall said. "Are we sure we have everything to move it, Albus?"

"Everything is in place, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled. "I'm certain this will go smoothly."

He was certain things would move smoothly, but Severus was not. He didn't like the idea of keeping a three-headed monster in a single room indefinitely. He saw a disaster where they saw a flawless defence plan. He returned to the entrance hall to find Hermione staring at the graffitied wall holding a paintbrush and presumably shrinking before the task. He crept up behind her and leaned over her shoulder.

"This must be your best work yet," he said.

"Gaaah!" she yelped with a jump before spinning around. The brush fell from her hand while she kicked a bucket of paint over, splattering ivory over the wall and floor before falling into it. She rolled her eyes and slapped her forehead. "Really, Dad?"

"At least you now have paint on the wall," he smirked helping her off the ground. "Are you-"

He was interrupted by a grave meow from a skeletal grey cat. Mrs Norris stared at the two of them with her lamp yellow eyes with an air of disapproval, her paws tracking ivory paint as she approached them.

"Great," Hermione sighed. "Filch is going to hang me by my entrails!"

"_Mr_ Filch will do no such thing," he reprimanded, taking out his wand. "And watch your tone, little girl."

"What have you done?" Filch stared at Hermione after picking up his now white-pawed cat. He did look like he wanted to hang her by her entrails.

"It's handled, Mr Filch," Severus said, illustrating his point by disappearing the paint. "You'll find everything is in order."

"Just keep your brat in order!" he spat before crooning over Mrs Norris's paws.

"My _daughter_ is just fine," he said putting an arm around her shoulders. "Though I do understand your frustration, Mr. Filch. You must be exhausted. It's not as if a child is fulfilling criteria that falls within your job description."

"Come along, precious," he said to his cat. "We're not wanted here."

Filch continued on his way grumbling about how he would have to clean her paws. Watching the grumbling caretaker marching off away from him reminded him of his own schooling. Though he was rarely the cause back in those days.

"Did he really threaten to hang you by your entrails?" he muttered in her ear.

"Do you really have to ask?" she muttered back from the corner of her mouth.

"I suppose not," he sighed. "You should get cleaned up before the ghosts accuse you of a hate crime."

Hermione stifled a giggle with a paint-covered hand. "And track footprints through Mr. Filch's clean corridors?"

"It's truly a pity," he smirked.

"Do you think he knows just how much blood he'd have to clean up if he made good on his threat?" she said.

"Not to mention cleaning the instruments afterward."

"That alone could take hours!" Hermione gasped. "Why, Dad, that would be torture!"

The two of them made eye contact before simultaneously bursting into laughter. The half of Hermione's face that wasn't covered in paint flushed pink before she shook her head and picked up her bucket. Despite the ribbing the two engaged in, he couldn't remember the last time the two laughed together so hard. He was aware how bizarre the scene was. Hermione stood covered in paint laughing with him. Perhaps he should feel shame at it being at Filch's expense, but this was one of those moments he wished he could freeze.

"I should go," she said picking up the empty can. "I'll see you tonight!"

Watching her walk away he became painfully aware he couldn't freeze the moment. Nor any other. Hermione would grow up, and it was happening faster than he was prepared for. He never fancied himself sentimental, but now he was one of those parents who desperately wished his child would be little forever. His job was to forge her into a good human being. Not to coddle her. Severus hated it. The years marched on and he couldn't seem to catch up. He couldn't help but wonder if they would take her from him too.

"Hermione, wait!" he called after her, too late. She had already vanished. "Damn," he sighed looking at his own paint-covered hand.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked her father.

Dark rings circled his eyes and he slumped the over his desk at times he scanned through files. He rubbed his eyes and looked up from his papers at her. "Just not as young as I used to be."

"Not as young as you used to be?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're thirty-one, Dad."

"Don't roll your eyes!" he snapped. "I swear if I have to tell you that one more time I'll switch your eyes with the damn owl's."

"Sorry, sir," she set her quill down. "You've been a bit off the past few days. Is everything okay?"

He sighed and set his own quill down before closing the file before rubbing his neck. "I'm fine. You have work to do."

Hermione examined his face. The past week she had seen the changes: his usually pale skin further blanched, his eyes once intent now drooped closed, and his already volatile mood sat on a razor's edge. The mid-July heat didn't help, even Archimedes over preened from his perch to cope. Hermione and her father weren't at each other's throats, but the behaviours that annoyed them about each other seemed all the more grating. Though she attributed his recent changes to the late nights. She wished she knew why he entered their living quarters at 3 am most mornings recently. She had noticed it the past three weeks, but she wasn't about to let him know.

"Okay," she said returning to yet another file detailing the misadventures of James Potter and company.

An hour passed in silence, both of them copying the files verbatim onto newer parchment. She felt that she would lose her damn mind if she had to read one more write-up on James Potter and company pranking students and faculty. Her father had hand-picked the files she copied and she couldn't help but feel there was a reason James Potter made up an unhealthy majority of them. When he was in a more favourable mood she would ask him what his damn point was.

"I have to go," he said closing the file and pointing to the basket. "I want everything in that basket done when I come back."

Hermione bit her lip to prevent herself from frowning at the tower of paper sitting in the 'to be copied' paper. "Yessir."

"Archimedes," he whistled.

The tawny eastern screech owl flew to his arm and peered at him with yellow eyes. He then turned to her, narrowing his eyes with an uncomfortable intelligence. Archimedes was nearly her age, but the small bird showed no signs of slowing down. She managed to placate him at times, but Archimedes's loyalty laid with her father.

"I might be the rest of the night," he explained placing his other hand on her head. "Keep the window open and send him out when you've finished and when you leave for _any _reason."

She didn't know whether to be frustrated with him enlisting an owl to mind her or if she was relieved he didn't grab a house-elf or other staff member. She wondered why he didn't enlist Libby, but hoped it meant he knew she was old enough not be inconveniencing the poor house-elf.

"Yessir," she nodded.

He sent the owl to perch opposite Hermione before moving a lock of hair out of her face. "I'll see you when I get back. Don't wait up."

"See you then," she said. "And, Dad?"

"Yes, love?"

"Whatever you're doing... just be careful," she sighed. "It's stupid, but I worry."

"And here I thought it was my job to worry about you," he smiled. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Don't stay up too late."

_You're a terrible liar..._ "Understood," she nodded before hugging him. "Night, Dad."

"I'm tired not dying, little girl," he sighed lifting her face. "I repeat, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Now get those finished and don't forget to feed yourself."

"Yessir."

After he left she turned to Archimedes. Under his black eyebrow-like ears he peered at her with cold judgement in his large yellow eyes.

"Guess it's just us, huh?" she asked offering him a whole peanut.

The owl greedily pecked at her palm, eating the peanut shell and all.

"Are you sure you're not a crow?" she teased.

He narrowed his eyes in a rather human-like fashion and craned his face closer to hers.

"Sorry to have insulted your grace!" she rolled her eyes.

Archimedes pointed his wing at the mountain of paperwork in front of her.

Another eyeroll and a peace offering later Hermione set to work. Hours passed in silence or with her whistling bits of tunes she didn't fully know. Archimedes seemed to judge her, glaring at her. She stopped whistling and continued in silence. She copied the files without processing what she was copying, but simply recorded it accurately and _legibly. _By the time she got to the last two files her hand cramped so badly that she had to release her quill and stretch out her fingers with her other hand.

"Wait," she said to herself. "1977-1978, where's 1975-1976?"

Hermione stood up to go to the archives only to be met with a screeching as she reached the door. She turned to the owl, his beak and eyes opening to the size of dessert plates. The screech echoed through the dungeons and she yelled at him begging him to stop.

"Archimedes, come on! Please shut up!" she begged. "I have a peanut! Don't you want this? Mmmm, yummy!"

The damn owl would not be sated until she sat back down and took out the file from the basket. Once she opened the '77/78 file and began copying it the bird smugly stared at her. "Are you happy?" she hissed.

"Is Miss Hermione harmed?" asked a squeaky voice from behind her.

"Libby?" she choked spinning around.

Libby shrank, her large brown eyes turning to the ground as she fiddled with the hem of her patch-work pillowcase. "Miss Hermione looks angry."

"Miss Hermione is startled," Hermione said clutching her chest. "Are you okay, Libby?"

"Libby is very well," she assured her.

Hermione knelt to Libby looking in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Professor Snape told Libby to clean the dungeons and if she hears an owl scream to come to his office immediately and check on Miss Hermione!"

_Of course he did!_ Hermione glared at Archimedes. "You see," she hissed at the owl. "This is why I'm a cat person!"

"Libby is sorry," she said meekly.

"No," Hermione softened her voice. "Libby, I'm not mad at you. You're just doing your job. I'm mad at the damn owl."

The two glared at each other. Mage-Bred owls were the worst. So human in so many ways, but so difficult to appease. Sure, her father could threaten to switch their eyes and Archimedes would do nothing, but she dare call him a "damn owl" and she received a death glare.

"Libby understands Archimedes is a very particular owl," she nodded. "But Miss is unharmed?"

"Yeah," she replied smiling. "I was just about to leave the room when he started screaming bloody murder. I simply went to fetch a file so I could finish my task and he was having none of it."

Archimedes hooted and bristled with pride. He felt more like an arrogant nanny than a family pet at times.

"Yes, you've done a very good job, bird-brain," she grumbled. "Sentry of the century!"

"What file?" Libby asked. "Libby can fetch it without angering Archimedes."

"I don't want you going out of your way for me, Libby," she said taking her hands. "Honestly, I don't mind one less mammoth file to copy. It might enable me to actually do something else tonight."

Libby smiled mischievously, her eyes gleaming. "Miss Hermione is a sly child."

Hermione finished copying the final file to fresh parchment and placed it in the completed basket for her father to review at his leisure. The completionist in her wondered about the missing year. Her father had the same detail-oriented, completionist streak in him. She was certain it wasn't a mistake he could make, even in his harried state. But he did hand pick which of the files in each year she would copy. Maybe 1975/1976 simply didn't fit his narrative of "James Potter and his whole lot were rotten to the core." Something that now that she thought of it, had to have something to do with Harry Potter attending his first year. Was he trying to tell her that because his father was a real jerk, Harry would be too? Yes, that had to be it...

"Okay, Archimedes," she said handing him a folded letter with her update. "Here you go."

The owl flew off and Hermione waited for his return pacing the length of her father's office. Occaisionally she would tidy here or there, keeping to her father's strict system of things. She had finished dusting the shelves by the time the Archimedes returned to the room with a rolled piece of parchment tied to his leg. She thanked him with yet another whole peanut and unfurled the message.

_Hermione,_

_By time you get this, it'll be late. If you haven't already tidied, do that. Though, knowing you, I imagine you had. Go to living quarters and stay there! I better not hear another report from Libby saying you tried to leave._

_And for the love of all that is holy don't stay up all night!_

_LIBBY WILL BE CHECKING ON YOU!_

_Your exasperated father_

"Wow," she told the bird. "I can just feel the paternal love oozing from this!" she grabbed her quill and wrote her own letter.

_Exasperated Father,_

_Reporting to living quarters at 2100 hours for the duration of 15, July 1991 until 0600hours on 16, July 1991._

_Awaiting further instruction, sir!_

_Your obedient daughter_

Hermione sighed knowing exactly what would come of her sending Archimedes with that letter. She imagined him ranting endlessly about her cheek and how she appreciated nothing. She simply had no idea of what he had to endure for her benefit! Though how could she? She was just a silly little girl, but she certainly would appreciate everything he's done once she was older. Hermione rolled her eyes and wrote a new letter.

_Dad,_

_Not to worry! You've correctly predicted I would have things already sorted, you know me too well. I'm heading to our living-quarters at nine o'clock. I hope the night runs smoothly for you. _

_Love,_

_Hermione._

"You're going to get fat!" she scolded the owl.

Archimedes demanded another peanut before he let her tie the note to his leg and again before he left. She was now out of peanuts and out of patience as the owl left her arm and fled from the high window. She did another tidy of the office, ensuring everything was in order before she left. She marked her place in her book with the unused note and snuffed the lit candles around the room.

She entered the dark hall with a lit taper and quietly padded her way down the corridor that led to their living quarters. She felt as though she shouldn't be in the corridor at night. A remnant of her father's presence or one of his agents everywhere she turned. Sure, she sounded paranoid, but nearly eleven years of his watchful eye made her suspect everything. She truly loved her father, but she wished she could simply walk down a corridor without fearing she had somehow displeased him.

She made her entered the room she had spent the last ten years in. The fireplace had already been lit and glow globes at each corner of the entrance alcove. Rice paper dividers stood dividing where they slept from what had become a living area as well as separating the makeshift bedrooms from each other. Ten years rice paper and hiding in the library were the key to her own privacy. How could she have been so isolated but never alone? She rolled her eyes at the thought and sat herself at the round wooden table in front of the fireplace.

She hunched over her book and began the chapter on immutable physical and metaphysical properties of metals. Hermione hadn't received her letter yet, but when she did she wanted to be ready. Some of what she read was beyond her level, but she crossed referenced all she could to make sense of it. She felt like if she understood the fundamental laws of magic she would know what she was doing. A complete understanding of the properties of potions ingredients and tools allowed her to make calls while preparing them, knowing the parts of speech made learning French, Latin, Elvish and Goblin easier and knowing individual constellations allowed her to map the sky more easily. Details made her see the whole. Though she wished she had the talent of some of the students she spied on. So many seemed to intuitively get it without the hard work. Perhaps she wasn't as smart as she fancied she was.

Hermione finished the chapter, scrawling notes on the back of her unsent message to help her memorize the finer points. She moved to the next chapter on branching spells. The idea was that individual spells were new branches on a great existing tree with roots deep into the ground, all feeding from the same source and-

"Shit!" Hermione exclaimed grabbing her sketchbook.

Four weeks and all she had accomplished on that damn mural was to paint over the wall in ivory. She started sketching out a tree with a tangle of roots reaching into a rippling water source. Burrowing amongst the roots was the humble badger. She began on the serpent coiling up the trunk when a snap broke the silence. She looked up and Libby stood beside Archimedes at the door. The owl flew to his perch dropping a note on her sketchbook on the way.

_Hermione,_

_There's a sleeping draught on the mantle if you need it. I'll be back in the morning._

_Dad_

_P.S: I almost forgot. Don't read by the light of the glow globe. You'll ruin your eyes!_

"Libby apologizes, Miss Hermione," Libby squeaked.

"Why?" Hermione asked setting aside the note. "You're not the one that sending nagging notes. Even when I'm alone he sends an owl to yell at me." _Is that unfair for me to say? _

Libby gently smiled and sat on the table. "Please don't be mad at Professor Snape, Miss Hermione. He only wants what's best for Miss Hermione."

"I know, Libby," she sighed. "I'm sorry you have to mind me."

"Would Miss Hermione like Libby to tell her a secret?" she asked taking her hand.

Curiosity burned at her brain. Maybe Libby knew where she came from. Maybe she wasn't bound to keep her father's secrets. She wondered which she would rather know. On one hand, she desperately wanted to know what the teachers were all up to this summer. They had all been acting strangely. But to know where she came from...Some have called her "Snape's foundling" meaning he found her. Where did he find her? What about the rumours she was actually a year younger than he told everyone to hide a sordid affair with a student? That didn't seem likely. Did he adopt her? Find her? Did she have a mother out there somewhere...that most likely abandoned the two of them?

"What is it?" she asked leaning in.

"Minding Miss Hermione is Libby's favourite duty!" she smiled.

Hermione forced a smile hoping to hide her disappointment. "You're so sweet, Libby. Thank you."

"Oh!" she said snapping her fingers and presenting a sandwich cut into corners and cup of tea. "Libby almost forgot!"

So did Hermione. She neglected her gurgling stomach in the interest of getting everything done. She happily took a quarter of the sandwich and gestured to the plate to the skinny house-elf. "Thanks, Libby. You know, I feel weird about eating by myself, any chance you could take some? I know it's not appropriate, but I would feel better about it."

Libby took a quarter and nibbled gingerly on it, though her expression told Hermione she had also neglected to feed herself. The two ate their very late supper and Libby admired Hermione's initial sketch.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush as Libby complimented her. She wondered how much of it was pity or duty but broke from her own self-pity long enough to see the tiny house-elf shivering.

"Are blankets clothes, Libby?" Hermione asked on her way to her room.

"No, Miss Hermione, why?"

Hermione dug out her multi-coloured poorly knitted blanket. It was not quite as tall as Libby as she gave up and cast off when she couldn't replicate the pattern exactly. She was now thankful for it, it was the right size for Libby to wear like a cloak or shawl without being shamed or scorned. She presented it to Libby. "You look cold. I tried to make a blanket earlier this year. I have no use for it."

"It's so sweet, Miss Hermione!" she said wrapping it around her shoulders. "Libby thanks Miss Hermione!"

Libby left and Hermione wished she could free the indentured house-elves without shaming them. It was so unfair, and the ones that hadn't been brainwashed by centuries of slavery were afraid to advocate for their own freedom. She sighed and returned to her sketch wondering if she could ever help them.

* * *

The last of the potions were finally brewed and Severus handed them along with the plans and riddle to Dumbledore around three that morning. The Devils Snare had been relocated successfully to the chamber beneath the trapdoor. That took more time and effort on his part and Sprout's than either had accounted for. The forty-foot drop was about as easy to navigate as a damn labyrinth. He pushed the thought from his mind as he entered their living-quarters.

Why was he not surprised? Hermione sat at the table with her face buried in an open book. One of three open books that sat on the table. He approached her and Archimedes flew to perch himself on the back of her chair, staring intently at him.

"You'll wake her!" he hissed.

Archimedes narrowed his yellow eyes with an arrogant judgement he once had only imagined humans capable of.

"I get it," he whispered. "I'm a terrible father!"

Severus gently lifted her from the chair, careful not to wake her. He wondered how long she had been sleeping at the table as he carried her into her bedroom. Archimedes followed him and cast another judgemental glare at him as he tucked her into bed. Hermione seemed so vulnerable and tiny. She was not greatly smaller than others her age, but he couldn't help but remember the baby girl sleeping in his arms. The damn owl was right, he left her alone too often. He never thought he could love another person as long as he lived, but this little girl, _his _little girl, changed that. And he repaid her with the very negligence he accused her birth parents of.

Why did she have to start school this year? Why the year they moved the stone to the school? The ear he kept to the ground and news reports on the continent all but confirmed dark magic was afoot. If Voldemort could somehow return, he would want the stone. Hence the late nights creating mythological tasks to guard the damn thing. If their fears were true, how much danger was she in? Would Lily's son bring a host of danger as well? Why did they have to be in the same year? He should have lied about her age. Maybe then the only person he still cared about would be safe.

_Or you could send her away, but you're too selfish for that..._ He thought as he turned to leave.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Hermione gasped bolting upright.

Hermione looked around the darkened room in a fury before noticing she was in bed. Four weeks of these nightmares, he felt if he wasn't losing sleep over the stone he would be losing sleep over her. At least more than he usually did.

"Dad?" she knit her eyebrows in confusion.

"You were having a nightmare," he explained. "Again."

Hermione drew her knees up to her chest and shrank into a tight upright fetal position. He could barely make out her eyes between the blankets and her hair. "Sorry," she mumbled.

At this rate, he could dismiss any fears of her befriending the Potter boy. There was no way the timid girl would land in Gryffindor, and there was no way a son of Lily and James Potter would land anywhere else.

"Four weeks of this," he sighed sitting on the foot of her bed. "Do you remember anything?"

"No, sir," she shook her head.

_When did she start lying to me? It was a while ago..._ "Why do I doubt that?"

Hermione lifted her head and sighed. "I'll get over it. It's stupid anyway...Pathetic really."

_Did I do this to_ _you?_ he wondered but couldn't bring himself to say the words. "Try me," he said moving a strand of hair from her face.

Long minutes of silence passed between them. Severus's own shitty parents made him incapable of navigating moments like these. Was it better to let it be? Was it better to urge her to speak? He had no clue what she needed. He longed for a time when he knew exactly what she wanted and he could dispel any fears she had with a well-placed distraction.

"Nobody is going to like me," she sighed scratching between Archimedes's eyes. "I'm an idiot for letting it bother me as much as it is."

He was about as equipped to advise her in that as the owl on her arm. It also just occurred to him then that his attempts to deter her from befriending the Potter boy were in part responsible. How many entries had she read of students transfiguring their unsuspecting peers? Amplifying features the victims were self-conscious of? Or any other assortment of public humiliations that landed their victims in the hospital? Some of the things he had her copy made the teenagers in _Carrie _seem kind.

"See?" she said not taking her eyes off the owl. "Pathetic. Don't feel like you have to waste your time on this. I just have to grow up."

What the hell kind of ten-year-old spoke like that? How could she think he saw her concerns as a waste of time? Was this the future? Was he doomed to watch her suffer in silence with nothing to do about it? Sure, it was nightmares now, but soon enough she would be facing much larger problems. And if she was right about nobody liking her the issues would be even worse.

And that was assuming worse problems don't rear their head...He could only hope that the goings-on on the continent didn't mean the end of peace-time. Should that happen the temptation to make like the Godmother in a certain muggle fairy-tale was particularly strong.

"Are you okay, Dad?" she asked, at last, making eye contact with him.

That was when he noticed the white-knuckled grip on Hermione's hand. He loosened his grip but wasn't willing to let go. Not yet, not until he could make things right for her. But...he had no clue how to do that. He cursed Hermione's insightfulness. She knew something was wrong, and what was he to tell her? That he was terrified of the idea she could be lost? That he couldn't help her? No, he had to be immovable.

"I'm fine," he sighed placing his other hand on her head. "I'm not the one who's unable to sleep through the night." _That was true about twelve years ago..._

"And still I worry," she gave him a weak smile and tilted her head.

"And I keep telling you not to," he sighed.

Another silence passed and the two stared at each other, both worried with no clue how to express it. He realized that there was nothing he could do and that she would talk to him when she was ready. It was all up to her and he _hated_ it! Severus might have been able to play the long game, but he was not a patient man, and he hated the idea that he would be useless again.

"It's late," he summoned a sleeping potion and handed it to her. "Drink this and get some sleep. Will you need me to stay with you?"

Hermione smiled gently and shook her head. "That's sweet, Dad. But we both know I'm _far_ too old for that. I appreciate the offer."

"Of course, love," he said less gently than he had wished to. _She is right about that...don't get upset... You literally told her that two years ago... _

_She_ might have outgrown him staying with her, but he didn't outgrow listening for the sound of disturbances in her breathing or yelps. So he cleared the table until he was satisfied the potion took. He picked up her sketchbook and examined the half-done sketch. At ten the girl out-classed some of his better students in technical skill, was it talent or isolation? Either way, he a surge of paternal pride at the work.

Archimedes glared at him from the top of the sketchbook.

"No, I'm not going to tell her!" he hissed shooing the bird. "Hermione can do things without showing off. I don't see how heaping praise on the girl is going to in any way make her a better person. It'll only make her arrogant."

_I'm__ accusing a damn bird of judging me..._ He picked up the other books. As he closed _Laws and Principles of Magic Vol. 1_ he saw a piece of parchment with Hermione's writing marking the page. Very tiny writing detailed properties of different metals. _This girl is going to read the whole damn library before her first day. _He flipped the paper to find a rather cheeky note. Of course she drafted notes to him, that child was always so careful in writing. And now he wondered if Hermione truly felt he was some unreasonable taskmaster. Severus was torn between wanting to prove her right by adding to her plate and just telling her what all of this was about. He sighed and placed the marker back in place before heading to bed.

* * *

Sunlight barely entered the dungeon window and filtered through the rice paper dividers when Hermione woke. The damn roosters would start their crowing in an hour or so, and Hermione felt the two hours of sleep weigh on her like a stone. She urged her body out of bed, her mind sluggish as well from the potion. It gave her a deep, solid sleep, but she didn't wake as refreshed as she might have had she waited even just a couple hours more.

However her body cried for more sleep, she had shit to do. She would start by stealing some coffee from the kitchens. After she was-no, she was already dressed. She simply splashed cold water on her face from the basin before grabbing her things on the table. She found the books, charcoal, ink and quill neatly stacked and cleaned. She would get an earful when her father woke, but she probably deserved it. She looked to Archimedes who slept peacefully on his perch. Perhaps she could leave before six without his screeching. She placed her things in her bag and neglected her shoes. She padded out and quietly left their living quarters.

"Good morning, Miss Hermione," Libby smiled over a pot of coffee.

"Does Miss need anything?" asked Bitsy, another female house-elf.

Many of the house-elves greeted her with varying degrees of enthusiasm, but all wanted to ensure that the human in the room did not need anything. Hermione felt so gross, being doted on by creatures that felt bound to her. Her stomach churned as she moved to a magic icebox removing sausage, bacon and eggs. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd make myself and more father something," she shrugged.

"Does Miss not like our cooking?" Bitsy asked between her teeth, a strained smile broke Hermione's heart.

This was a conversation she had several times with the house-elves over the past two years. "Your cooking is beautiful, Bitsy," she assured her. "But I was raised to do things for myself. I feel wrong with others doing things for me."

"Miss Hermione is a peculiar human, Bitsy," Libby sighed rubbing her back. "But she also told Libby that she has to learn so she can take care of herself when she grows up. Perhaps Bitsy can help me show her things?"

"But Bitsy is making pies, Libby!" she whispered looking up at Hermione.

"Libby will teach me, Bitsy," Hermione smiled kneeling to the elf's eye-level. "Continue on with the pies. You're doing beautifully."

Libby supervised Hermione cooking breakfast while offering her coffee with a few remarks on how it was going to stunt her growth. She arranged the breakfast attractively on her father's plate and chopped sausage for Archimedes, sitting it on the side of her own plate, not touching her fruit or bread. She had to do some rather disgusting things to prepare for potions and the idea of eating animals on top of it churned her stomach. She covered the plates with towels, set the mugs upside down on the tray with one of the percolators.

"Does Miss Hermione need help?" Libby asked.

"No, Libby," she said carrying the tray out. "I got this. Thanks."

Hermione padded back down to their living-quarters and began setting the table. The roosters began crowing as Hermione poured coffee into the mugs waking the damn castle before the first bell rang. It was something that irked her without any real reason. She ignored it and began offering bits of sausage to the now awake Archimedes.

"Keep that up and he'll weigh more than you," her father said emerging from his room already dressed.

"Morning, Dad."

"Either the house-elves are early today or you raided the kitchens again," he posited sitting down.

"I was raised to do things for myself," she shrugged before offering another piece to Archimedes. "I swear you only like me when I feed you."

"That owl is more fond of you than you give him credit for," he leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. "And I may have wanted you to be independent, but I know I didn't teach you to do others' work for them. I swear if the Ministry found out Hogwarts would be facing child labour accusations."

"I only have a month and a bit before I have to sustain myself on slave labour, and besides," Hermione faced Archimedes to hide an eye roll and offered his last bit of sausage. "It's not child labour if it's only us. Is it wrong for me to want to be of some use to our family?"

"Sit down, little girl," he gestured across the table. "I'm tired of explaining why my owl is better fed than my daughter."

Hermione obliged and drank her coffee opposite him and picked at her fruit. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than you, it seems," he said pouring himself another cup. "What the hell kind of ten-year-old has a diet that consists of black coffee and fruit? You're going to look like a child until you're my age."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and poured herself water. "I'll use it to my advantage. Depending on what I chose to do with the rest of my life I'll get an advantage from being underestimated."

"It's not an underestimation if you're as fragile as you look," he said.

"I need to take Archimedes out, work on the mural, and return the books to the library," she counted after a period of uncomfortable silence. "Anything you need help with, Dad?"

"Let's see," he mused. "I can never seem to keep up with the demand or pickled rat brains and spleens, so that will have to be done. The unicorn horn powder needs to be sifted, I can see to the milking of scorpion, spider and snake venom. That will take all day, so you'll need to do the rest. Oh, and I need the tools sorted by metal type. Feel free to use your little cheat sheet."

Hermione's day of raiding the archives vanished before it began. She rose and moved beside him to kiss his cheek. She then tilted her head and smiled at him."I'll see to it immediately." she whistled and Archimedes flew to her arm for the price of a whole peanut.

"Oh, and Hermione?" he said rising as well.

"Yes?"

"The military uses numbers to indicate the month."

_Little cheat sheet, military...crap! You're so careless!_ Hermione sighed turning from the door. "I am so sorry, Dad. I was angry when I wrote that, but I didn't send it because I didn't mean it."

"You got through a whole note using muggle military lingo you're unfamiliar with before your impulse control kicked in?" he scoffed.

Hermione slapped her forehead with her free hand. "J-," she sighed. "Yes. I'm a child, I've read somewhere we don't really develop impulse control until we're twenty-five."

"That makes so much sense," he groaned. "Let's go."

"Let's?"

"A contraction of 'let' and 'us'," he said banishing the used plates. "You've certainly read enough to know that."

_Oh dear god!_ Hermione forced a smile and nodded. "Of course, Dad. I suppose I was just curious when you said you'd be spending when you said you would be spending the day milking venom."

"And let you alone when you have no impulse control? I'm coming with you."

Hermione raised her arm and watched Archimedes take to the clear blue sky. The owl circled before flying to a far tower in the school. She turned to her father leaning against a massive oak eyeing the owl with a stoic expression she couldn't interpret. He seemed uneasy, but she bet he was just still angry about the note she _never_ sent.

She imagined Archimedes was picking up a letter from the Headmaster. He would be a while. Were her father not with her she would lay in the grass and read for an hour before taking on the mural. But basking in the shade and sun on the dewy grass would only earn her snide comments about how the damn mural wasn't going to paint itself. _Does thinking that make me an ingrate? _

"Well," he started as she mixed paints on a palette. "It's very white."

"It's a base, Dad," she explained.

"After three weeks?"

"It has to dry between each layer," she sighed. "And when I started I was certain the graffiti enchantment would bleed through whatever I did."

He placed his hand on her head and looked at her. "If you thought the Headmaster was proposing a Sisyphean task, why the hell did you agree?"

"I guess I just wanted to be useful," she shrugged mixing an intense navy. "You've all been so busy all summer, and breaking the enchantment was one less thing for you to do. I have no clue what you lot are doing, but I know it's important."

"How much do you know?" he asked lifting her chin.

"Just that it's been keeping you all hours of the night," she said ignoring the chills running down her spine. Whatever it was, she was not supposed to know and it was this that unsettled her father. "I know it's very serious...nothing else, I swear."

"Very well," he said folding his arms over his chest. "I advise you to keep your head down. It doesn't concern you and I'm not above ensuring you remain ignorant."

"I know to mind my own business," Hermione turned back to her palette, dismissing his vague threat. "If it affected me at all you would tell me."

"If it affected you at all I would do anything in my power," he said.

_Even to my dismay..._ she thought before smiling gently at him. "I know, Dad."

Hours passed and Hermione had painted the entire wall navy. Her father's presence had allowed her to apply two coats over the ivory by magically drying the paint, and drying it before Hermione returned to the floor.

"And here I thought you would wait until you were sorted before you started showing favouritism-or at least chose to favour your poor old dad's house?"

Hermione smirked and grandly gestured across the wall. "Yes, I have this artistic vision! A great gold raven majestically soaring high in a field of navy representing all of Hogwarts!"

"Ravenclaw's sigil is an eagle, and bronze. If you're going to spite me, be accurate about it."

Hermione shook her head. "I've decided to take artistic license. If I'm painting a single mascot _everybody's _going to be disappointed."

"At least you have aspirations."

Hermione laughed and knelt to gingerly retrieve the book on star charts from her bag. She flipped through it with a clean kerchief.

"Madam Pince would kill you if you got paint on a single one of her books."

"Which is why I'm only referencing it to ensure I copied it right," Hermione again resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Honestly, Dad, do you think I'm so careless? Marking up a book is just heretical."

"I should have never let you near that woman," he smirked. "I swear the minute she was convinced you were old enough not to be 'a sticky-fingered menace' she saw to indoctrinating you!"

"Just because I would rather drive knives into my eyeballs than harm our hard and paperbound brethren doesn't mean I've been indoctrinated," she said dramatically.

"Well, you'd certainly roll them less if you did that," he shrugged. "Did you accurately follow the instructions of your hardbound brethren?"

"Praiseth be the pages bound!" Hermione chanted crossing herself.

"And you just got paint in your hair," he smiled with an eye roll before kneeling to take the library book with his clean hands and poked her forehead. "And here."

"It might be an improvement," she shrugged running a hand through her hair before rummaging through her bag. "I can't possibly make it worse. I know I've got some moonstone pigment in here somewhere..."

* * *

"Damn girl forgot to lock the door again," Severus grumbled to himself before opening the door.

Upon the sight of his living quarters, he dropped his armload of books and grabbed his wand pointing it at the intruder holding an unconscious Hermione in her lap.

"What is it with you and claiming pet mudbloods?"

"How the hell did you get out of Azkaban?"

"Shh," Bellatrix grinned merrily pointing a wand at Hermione's temple. "Baby's sleeping. And I'd listen if you ever want her to wake again. Let go of the wand."

All he had to do was disarm her, there'd be no risk of that harming Hermione, but his fingers froze around his wand, a tight lump formed in his throat and a chill ran down his spine. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak. His chest tightened and stomach churned. He had to move. To do something. All he could do was watch as Bellatrix cupped Hermione's face to turn it to face him.

"Pwease, you don't want to huwt me, Daddy!" she squeaked moving Hermione's jaw.

He wanted to tell her to get the hell away from his daughter. He wanted to disarm her, get Hermione somewhere safe and ensure that Bellatrix would never be a problem again. Something that should have been easy, yet his frozen muscles refused to move. This must have been what petrification was like. If he couldn't attack Bellatrix without risking Hermione could he at least do as she said.

"Don't you wub me, Daddy?" Bellatrix cackled.

_Move! Move, you stupid son of a bitch! Save your baby!_

"Drop it, Snape," Bellatrix sang. "Or Daddy's pwecious widdle giwl won't live to see her eleventh birthday!"

Severus sank to his knees and dropped his wand. "Please let her go."

"Tell me how to get the stone."

"Second door on the left-hand third floor corridor... there's a trapdoor...now let her go!"

Bellatrix threw Hermione across the room, she landed at his knees unmoving.

"Hermione!" he held her to him feeling her cold face. "Don't do this to me! No, no, no, no!"

Bellatrix smirked evilly. "I'm not going to suffer a mudblood to live. She was dead long before you got here!"

"You bitch!" he cried.

"But is it really her fault, Sev?"

Only one person ever called him that. He turned around to see a beautiful auburn-haired woman with bright green eyes standing before him. How...Lily stood before him, her beautiful features contorted in anger. "She would still be alive if you left her with her _real _parents!"

"You don't understand, Lily! She was so sick..."

"The doctors would have saved her and you know it!" she hissed. "She would have simply been asthmatic and unathletic. But alive!"

"Lily, I-"

"Save it, Severus!" she snapped. "You couldn't save me and you can't protect her! You gave up the stone because you're weak. I've died for nothing!"

"I just wanted to protect my baby!" he cried.

"And so did I!" she screamed. "And because of you, _my_ baby is an orphan!"

"I know," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Lily!"

"Sorry doesn't bring her back, now does it, Daddy?" Hermione was no longer dead in his arms, but kneeling at his side. "Sorry fixes nothing!"

"We're both dead because of you!" Lily screamed in his other ear. "You gave Voldemort the prophecy that lead to mine and my husband's deaths!"

"You tricked my _real_ parents into giving me up!"

"You orphaned my son!"

"You raised me to trust no one but you!"

"You became a Death Eater because your schoolboy crush didn't return your feelings!"

"You will give up the stone to your old master!"

"You couldn't save me!"

"You couldn't protect me!"

The two converged on his ears and screamed: "And you can't protect Harry!"

Severus woke that morning gasping for air, but in his own bed. He looked around before noticing Hermione's silhouette leaning against Archimedes's perch, feeding him something to be sure. He silently sighed and thanked whatever higher power might exist before getting dressed and putting on his shoes.

He entered the living area to find Hermione feeding bits of sausage to Archimedes.

"Keep that up and he'll weigh more than you," he teased.

"Morning, Dad."

_I can protect you._


	4. B1 Chapter 3: Diagon AlleyThe Past

Archimedes flew into the window landing on their kitchen table with pride.

"Wow, birdbrain," Hermione groaned. "I'm so impressed you can do your job!"

Her father sighed sorting through the mail. "I do not understand why you feel the need to antagonize the family owl."

Hermione picked apart her toast and stared at Archimede's narrowed eyes. "How childish do I sound if I say he started it?"

"Extremely," he said setting aside a copy of the _Prophet._ "You were two, I doubt you even remember it."

He was right there. She didn't remember it. The talon shaped mark on her left shoulder was barely visible and she doubted the owl remembered it either. But she had more than enough memories of him screaming to alert him or Libby to her every move. That was much more recent.

"Anything for me?" Hermione joked.

"Actually," he smirked. "Yes."

"Wait, really?" Hermione's interest peaked. "Everyone I know is here."

"Hermione," he raised an eyebrow. "How old will you be in September?"

"Ele-Oh!" she resisted the urge to call herself a retard. "July 17th. Coming a little late, eh?"

"Professor McGonagall prioritized sending letters to the children who didn't know for a fact they were attending," he handed her the letter.

Hermione carefully peeled back the wax seal, delicately handling the yellow envelope feeling the weight of a heavy stone set in her chest. Years of watching everyone attend classes and control their own lives, she was finally among them! Unless...did the school send rejection letters? What if she wasn't...no, she had read everything she could get her hands on, she knew magic in and out...but when was the last time she had subconsciously cast? Something magical children were supposed to do often. Maybe she...

"I promise, it's not going to bite you," her father said.

"I have _literally_ seen letters do that," she gingerly removed the letter and sighed in relief.

_Miss Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted..._

Hermione combed through the letter several times to ensure it was real. It was McGonagall's handwriting, she knew each professor's handwriting intimately. The words didn't change as she re-read the letter. She was accepted. Long name and all.

"I don't think I've seen you read anything so slowly since you've learned how to read," he said suddenly leaning over her shoulder.

"Gah!" she jumped before sighing. "Why do you always do that?"

"To teach you the dangers of hyper-focusing," he shrugged.

"Lesson taught, _Professor,_" she groaned returning her focus to the letter.

"So it's 'Professor' now?" he sighed dramatically. "You wound me, daughter!"

"Oh, I wound you?" she smirked. "I'm such a petulant child!"

"Whatever will I do with you?"

"I'm sure Mr Filch might have some ideas."

"That he would," he rested his hand on the top of her head.

Hermione returned to the letter and began through the shopping list. "Are we expected to duel wield wands now?"

"Expected to what?"

Hermione slipped to beside him and showed him the list where "1 wand" was found twice in the list of required supplies. "Professor McGonagall might need to get an editor."

"You should not have shown me this, love," he smiled.

"Why?"

"I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from holding it over her."

"I will never understand your rivalry..." she sighed.

"Once you're sorted you might," he said combing through the letter. "I swear the reading list hasn't changed since I was in school. Is there a house you're hoping for?"

"Honestly," she mused. "I feel like separating us according to personalty so young just breeds rivalries. I don't recall seeing many people socializing outside their houses."

"You're not wrong," he said. "It's going to take forever to get you sorted though."

"Because I think house divisions are stupid?"

"Precisely," he smiled. "We'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow and get what you need."

"Wait...We?" Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She was finally going to see something beyond the school grounds! She had a firm picture of her mind of so many places from books she read. But the idea of _being _there astounded her. In the thick of the bustling town surrounded by wonders at every turn.

"Yes, we," he said. "I can't guarantee that you will get the right wand if you're not physically handling it."

"Oh my God," she gasped. "I-I've never been off the school grounds before...Dad, this is fantastic!"

"Such a rush to leave the nest?" he looked over the papers.

"I doubt one afternoon with you at my side counts as leaving the nest, Dad," she smirked over the copy of the _Prophet._

"Sure, tomorrow it's a single afternoon with me, but next you will be off in the world only writing your poor old father twice a year!"

"I'm sure you're skipping some steps there," Hermione offered. "Before I start only writing you twice a year I'm going marry a man twice my age that we both despise after a few terrible decisions that lead to an unplanned pregnancy."

"Don't even joke like that, Hermione Elizabeth," his tone turned from dry sarcasm to icy, slow and deliberate. "You've just successfully listed the worst fears of every parent with a daughter. Have you _any_ idea just how many young women succumb to the very same fate you've just described?"

"No, sir," she said putting down the paper. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"I suggest you start!"

"Yessir."

After breakfast Hermione left to work on the mural. She hated the project more than ever. It occurred to her that there was no way _someone_ couldn't dispel the enchantment on the graffiti. They were keeping her busy to keep her from figuring out whatever the hell they were doing. Whatever they were plotting for or protecting, they had successfully ensured she was far from the action. The worst part was, they could have _easily _kept her busy with potions prep, magical creature care and greenhouse work. All this achieved was keeping her in one bloody place.

Hours passed and she now had two neat lines of trees converging on the horizon and a rocky underground cavern with a pool of silvery water. Now she could start on the damn tree roots. She fancied she could have them done before her eight o'clock curfew. If she ignored her desire to sit and read, she could finish the damn thing in the week. All she had to do was spend all of her time not working on chores on the mural.

Hermione began mixing a brown and planned it out. If she could finish it this week, she would have a month and a bit to read through her school books and practice. The plan was to practice until she could do anything asked of her flawlessly. She would settle for nothing less than having memorized her entire reading list before school. Hermione was the daughter of a famously unlikeable teacher, she had trouble talking to people, and she knew she wasn't exactly pretty. Correction, she knew she was hideous. However, she would be good at magic. She would settle for nothing less.

A hooting sounded from behind her and she looked up to see Archimedes circling before landing on her arm.

"Are you here to spy on me or do you have a letter for me?" she asked before noting the piece of parchment tied to his leg. "Why, thank you, Archimedes. I brought exactly zero peanuts with me."

The owl narrowed his yellow eyes at her, which prompted Hermione to stick her tongue out at him.

"Let's see what my sweet loving father has to say, eh?" Hermione unfurled the parchment.

_Hermione,_

_My meeting with the headmaster has become a day-long affair, possibly going into the evening. I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that a curfew is the time to be back home, not leave for it! Be back in our living quarters before eight! I will know if you don't! _

_No need to reply,_

_Dad_

"I have never seen such abuse of underlining and exclamation points! I assume he will know because you're such a brave owl doing your duties," Hermione chuckled. "Looks like we're stuck with each other, bird brain."

Archimedes rotated his head completely before leaning in, his beak touching her nose and eyes once again narrowed.

"You have your eye on me, I get it."

Hermione began with the roots, sitting on her knees. She sang in French under her breath or whistled bits of song here or there as she worked. All the while she mentally reviewed facts from _Hogwarts a History _or _Laws of Magic Vol 1. _She would be ready for any challenge that came her way...so long as it was magical or academic in nature. If she buried herself in her work it wouldn't matter if nobody liked her. If she _needed _to have someone to talk to, she supposed that's why she kept a journal. Failing that she had annoying, gluttonous owls.

"What do you think, Archimedes?" she gestured to the completed root system. "It's my testament to _never _painting a damn mural again! Especially when it's obvious that the mural is completely unnecessary and they just want to keep me in one place!"

Archimedes didn't respond but merely looked at her while she scratched the top of his head.

"I call it 'I honestly would rather be doing anything else, but shit, I promised'! It's a long name, I know," she shrugged. "I'll have to workshop it."

She took a step back and examined the painting. She hated it. It had somehow looked different in her mind, but here it just looked like hours that she would never get back. It wasn't even worth the hours she spent. Clumsy strokes could be spotted, the rocks seemed wrong, having the water ripple and reflect the stars but nothing else beneath a silver sheen looked lazy to put it nicely, and if she really thought about it, the sky was not a good enough replica of the northern night sky. "I don't know if I can fix this...I think I liked the graffiti better."

The owl tilted his head from the ladder and looked at her.

"I'm _not_ a perfectionist! If I were a perfectionist I would paint over the whole bloody thing and start again! So, there!"

Archimedes leaned in close to her face again.

"It's good enough. If I close my eyes," she rolled her eyes. "You have got to be bored. What do you want to do?"

Archimedes, being an owl, said nothing.

"Strong silent type, huh?" she said leaning in. "You only have to put up with me doing this for a few more hours. Then I will give you a bucket of peanuts. Okay, not a bucket, you caught me!"

"Are you entirely well?"

Hermione turned to see Professor McGonagall standing behind her. The tall older woman looked concerned behind her square spectacles, but also amused. A shock of white in her black hair betrayed her age, and despite her severe bun and face, a kindness was belied by her actions. Not that she would ever tell her father, but she expected McGonagall would be her favourite teacher.

"I'm sorry, Professor?"

"You've been talking to that owl for quite some time."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush as she called the owl to her. "I suppose I just get lonely-er-I mean-" Hermione's face flushed more and she wanted to sink into the ground and never emerge. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to tell you not to paint over what you have," she smiled at the awful painting. "And that you should _definitely _workshop the title."

Hermione was glad for the bushy, paint-covered locks covering most of her face. She was certain it would be as pink as Hagrid's umbrella.

"I've heard your father yell at you enough about watching your language," McGonagall shrugged. "I'm not about to lecture you about that. You don't have to stare at your feet in shame, girl. It's no way to go through life."

"Sorry about that, Professor," Hermione knelt and scrambled to pick up her brushes and pallet. If she were doing something, she might have an excuse not to make eye-contact. She had no idea how to respond to that, and the comment about being lonely still filled her with shame."I actually just remembered I forgot a pigment, I'll have to go get it."

"Are you looking forward to school?" she asked helping her pick up the supplies. "I imagine other children will make better company than an owl."

"It would be nice if I had some practice speaking to other children," she admitted with a sigh. "But what doesn't kill you, right, Professor?"

"What about the Yamato boy?"

Hermione paused. That earned her undivided attention. "Yamato?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed behind her lenses as she helped her off the ground. "Hiro Yamato? The Headmaster of Mahoukatorou's grandson started school last year. Professor Dumbledore arranged for you two to correspond?"

"Oh!" Hermione smiled. "Hiro-kun! Yes, of course we've been writing. But where it's a correspondence I didn't really think about it. You're right, of course, Professor, it will definitely help me learn how to relate to others my age. I'm sorry, Professor, I just remembered I have to go. If I don't this little guy's going to report back to my father."

"Mage-bred owls are fiercely loyal creatures. I told your father that once you've started school, he won't know who to be loyal to."

"Oh, he'll know," Hermione joked. "I can only get him to listen to me with bribes. Oh, and Professor?"

"Yes?"

"If my father gives you a hard time about writing '1 wand' twice in the list, just ask him how he came to that observation." Hermione turned. "I really have to go, sorry, professor!"

Hermione rushed down to their living quarters. She frantically tore through the bookshelves, flipping through each book, not missing a single page before placing them back as they were. She wasn't sure how long she had spent combing through the books, but it was dark before she finished. Nothing in or behind the books on the bookshelves, she turned to the mantle. Archimedes stared at her while she combed through the items. Nothing was underneath or behind them.

"You're right!" she said hitting the ground. "I'm looking in the wrong place!"

She sifted through the ashes in the fireplace searching for anything that could be construed as mail. Shards of glass from communications between fireplaces seemed to be the only thing sticking out of the glass. She very nearly gave up when she found it. Maybe, it was a charred corner of a piece of paper. She gently lifted it to examine it for writing, but it fell apart under her breath.

"Damn it," she sighed.

She washed her hands and returned to the table with a lit candle, quill and paper. She could send it to the school, it was still July, she could still get in touch with Hiro Yamato. She wondered how good his English was. Should she know Japanese? She was clueless. She dug out her notebook and her books on Spanish, Italian, Latin and Greek. Something she could hide behind.

_Dear Yamato-san Hiro,_

_I know you've been writing for the better part of the year. I'm so sorry! Many of the letters were lost. I just received one today. I don't know how many I missed or how many you've written. If you would still like to write each other, I would be thrilled. The idea that there's someone else out there raised like me, it's a relief to know. I don't know what I should say, but I'd really like to get to know you._

_Yours,_

_Hermio_

The click of the door unlocking caused Hermione to jump and scribble into the paper. She quickly covered the letter with her work and set herself to look busy at work.

"Here before seven?" her father said entering the room with an armload of books. "I'm surprised."

"I believe you said that I was to be back _before _curfew," Hermione shrugged returning to scrutinize Latin conjugations. "How was your day?"

"It was all quite boring, I assure you," he scrutinized her book on Greek letters.

_Please don't look at the others..._

"How many languages are you looking to learn?" he scoffed.

"Yes," she smirked.

"Latin languages will be easier for you given how young you started French, but Greek won't be easy. Useful though," he combed through the pages. "Ogham, Futhark, Egyptian and Mandarin will have similar uses. But I promise you'll go mad if you try to learn them all. Your efforts are much better spent on reading your class books. Which I took the liberty of collecting."

He dropped the books on the table with an audible thud, which ruffled Archimedes's feathers.

"Thank you, sir," she said smiling at him.

"Of course, love," he said ruffling her hair. "Now, why don't you tell me what you think you're hiding from me?"

_How the hell...?_ Hermione's eyes darted around the room. Where had she messed up? The books were all placed back, the fireplace was pristine, no traces of soot on her hands and feet...

"We both know this will be much easier if you just admit to it, Hermione," he said coolly.

Hermione gave up trying to figure out how he figured it out and sighed. "I found out about the headmaster arranging for me to correspond with Yamato Hiro from Mahoutakoro."

"And you're wondering why I hid such a wonderful opportunity from you, is that it?"

"Actually," Hermione took in a deep breath. "Yes."

Her father folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes. "Hermione, the boy is halfway around the world. His English won't be good enough to understand what you write, and unless there's something I don't know, you don't know Japanese. What good could possibly come of this?"

_And what harm could come of it? _Hermione thought but kept her peace.

"And if you're wondering what harm could come of it," he began and Hermione shrank in her chair. "It would do nothing but distract you from your duties. I can't have you failing your classes because you're preoccupied with some boy. A preoccupation you are _far_ too young for, mind you."

"Understood, sir," she nodded.

"And yet there still seems to be something going on in that little head of yours," he mused.

"I don't understand why you think I'll be so distracted with a single quill-mate that I'd let everything I worked so hard for fall to the wayside," she admitted. "What do you expect to happen if by some miracle I make a friend or two in my class? Are you suggesting I isolate until I graduate?"

"The tone, little girl!" he snapped.

"Sorry!" she said reflexively.

"I don't see why you're angry with me."

"I'm not angry, Dad," she sighed making eye contact with him. "Just disappointed."

"I crave your pardon?"

Hermione wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. To make like a cat and dart into the nearest bush or under a bed. She inhaled sharply and clasped her hands together, digging her nails in the gaps between her fingers. Somehow, she found her voice and the ability to stand erect. "I'm disappointed that you couldn't at least explain to me why you refused. I just want to know why you don't trust me to do what literally everyone else on the planet does. Am I not good enough?"

A long silence passed with the two of them staring at each other. Hermione waited with bated breath, hoping for the answer. Maybe she could find some way to prove herself to him.

"It's not you I don't trust, Hermione," he sighed, lifting her face. "But you've proven yourself over-eager to please. Something that I had sincerely hoped you would correct this year. This world will take everything from you if you continue to prostrate before anyone who gives you the time of day."

"Sorry, sir," she said collecting her notes.

"I don't want an apology, little girl," he sighed.

Hermione looked into his black eyes feeling like a confused child. He seemed to be able to tell what she was thinking simply by looking at her, but no matter how she scrutinized his face, speech and movements, she could never understand what she was supposed to do. She tried so hard, and at least with the house-elves and other adults she could figure out the right thing to say or do. Why was she so clueless with her own father.

"And you're still working out the perfect thing to do or say," he said, more warmly than before. "It's late, little girl. Why don't we eat and you can head off to bed?"

* * *

"You are useless," Severus snapped at the sleeping owl on his perch. "You had _one_ job."

Archimedes was _supposed_ to alert him to Hermione leaving their living quarters. Yet the bird was silent, sleeping soundly while Hermione was off God knew where. Between the two of them how could she have evaded them? She probably bribed the gluttonous owl. And though Severus was a remarkably light sleeper, Hermione had seemed to figure out how to avoid waking him. How often had he woke up to see the girl padding barefoot through their own living quarters like an unwelcomed cat?

_And how much of that is my own doing?_ he wondered leaving for the kitchens.

"No, Professor," Libby said while beating a bowl of eggs. "Miss Hermione has not been here this morning. Libby hasn't seen Miss Hermione since yesterday morning, sir."

"Very well," he sighed. "Thank you, Libby."

The library wasn't open yet, so he could easily cross that haunt off his list. _ You idiot, you know exactly where she is!_

"It's not even six o'clock yet!" he called up to her.

_What is it with this child and ladders? _

"Gah!" she jumped, dropping her palette and splattering brown paint on the wall and clinging to the ladder for dear life. "I _hate _heights," she groaned.

"And yet you climb like a damn squirrel," he commented, steadying the ladder as she descended.

"Don't let the buckteeth and bushy hair fool you, Dad," she sighed reaching the ground. "I'm more like a cat, I'm fine so long as I don't realize where I am. Which makes this-" she gestured to the mural before picking up her pallet and brush. "Just _so _much fun."

"I'm certain there's a lesson here in making lofty promises..." he mused.

"Please, tell me this isn't some elaborate lesson," she groaned. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"No, but I wish you did," he sighed. "I was worried. I had no clue where you were."

"I left a note on the table telling you exactly where I was," she offered.

_How the hell could I have missed that?_ "I see," he said lifting her chin. "I don't suppose it occurred to you that upon seeing my child was missing I would miss something as small as a note?"

"Sorry, sir."

"I don't see why you have to be out this early."

"The sooner I finish it, the sooner I never have to look at it again."

"I hate to break it to you, love," he said turning her head to face it. "But regardless of when you finish it, you will be looking at it for the next seven years. So will everyone else."

"Perfect!" she scoffed. "The headmaster couldn't think of anything else to keep me out of whatever you're doing?"

"Hmm," Severus mused. "Maybe this was an elaborate lesson in over-committing. But nonetheless, you did commit to it, so you'll have to finish it before summer ends. I raised you to keep your word."

"And I will," she assured him. "I'm sorry to have worried you, Dad."

"Just don't do it again," he huffed. "Come along now."

"I'll be right behind you. I just have to fix this and clean up first," she picked up her pallet and brush before staring up the ladder as if it were the Whomping Willow.

Severus disappeared the paint from the floor and errant wet paint from the wall. "Fix what?"

"Omigod," she sighed with relief. "You're a lifesaver."

"You haven't the half of it," he ushered her forward. "You'll have to start adhering to school hours before long. And for the love of God, you haven't any clue what you might be stepping in, wear shoes."

"Yessir," she said.

Severus wasn't getting back to sleep at this point. He was used to strange hours, but with his portion of the protections done, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit looking forward to another hour or two of sleep. He could dose himself with a sleeping draught, but he didn't like the idea of being unable to wake if something happened. Perhaps confessed Death Eaters breaking out of Azkaban and into the school weren't likely, but he couldn't shake the idea it might happen. More mundane matters also kept him from sedating himself. Sure, Hermione was well now, but the sick infant with a blue-grey cast to her skin was an image that still haunted him. He leaned over her crib most nights just to be satisfied she was still breathing. Accidents and illness occupied the more reasonable parts of his mind, and his paranoid mind imagined her a target. How the hell did other parents send their children away so young for ten months of the year? He was spoiled; he could keep an eye on her all throughout the year.

He moved it from his mind as Archimedes dropped a copy of the _Daily Prophet. _He read through the paper. Why strange snake behaviour in France was on the third page and a quidditch victory was on the front page was beyond him. Strange behaviour of an animal linked to the vanquished Dark Lord? Why would that matter more than quidditch? He turned to the obituaries with nothing remarkable. They would have to be vigilant.

"So there was a little girl under all of that paint," he teased as Hermione returned.

"Astounding, I know," she said. "Anything interesting?"

"Not unless you want the latest quidditch scores," he sighed. "I suppose there's also gossip."

"Rita Skeeter hard at work," Hermione scoffed. "Why would a journalist be concerned with current affairs?"

"From the mouths of babes..." he sighed setting aside the paper. "I swear the only thing you've picked up from me is dry-wit."

"Maybe I'll grow into other qualities you want me to have," she offered.

"One can hope," he said. "Do you have everything you need for the afternoon?"

"I'll be ready to leave whenever you are."

"I'll hold you to it. We leave after lunch. Meaning I expect you to be ready _before_ then. Don't go around making promises."

"Yessir," she nodded.

She was true to her word. By the time lunch came around she was paint-free, packed and ready to go. Unsurprising given the girl's reaction to leaving the school grounds. He felt like he could have asked her to be ready by four in the morning and she would've obliged. He wondered if Hermione could adjust to crowds or if she was ready to face potentially hundreds of people milling about. He was confident he could track his own child down in a sea of people. Sure, she was small, but he appreciated the bushy hair, she would stand out if they were separated. He also appreciated her more or less racially ambiguous features. This was the first time the two would be out in public, and he was more than a little nervous someone might point out how little the two had in common.

"There are a few rules I would like to review," he told her as they stood on the far end of Hogsmede.

"Yessir," she nodded.

"You are not to leave my side for _any _reason, got that, little girl?"

"Yessir," she nodded again.

"You are to speak to no one without my expressed permission."

"Understood, sir."

"Violation of any of these rules _will_ result in spending the entirety of next summer in our living quarters."

"Yessir," she gave another nod.

"Alright then," he knelt down and folded her in his arms. "You're going to want to hang on."

With a _snap_ they disapparated to the entrance of Diagon Alley.

* * *

"Fist time along-side apparating," she over heard her father explaining to yet another concerned by-stander.

"Oh, I see," the higher pitched voice said. "poor dear."

Hermione's first time out in the world and she found herself with her head in a rubbish bin with her father holding her hair back. Irony was cruel. What was worse was the feeling of eyes on her. Nausea from apparating was initially triggered her to vomit, but the feeling of stranger's judging stares, the whispers of nosy passers-by made her cringe. This was all before the knowledge that this was the first impression she would be making with anyone in her year. Her stupid stomach had committed social suicide before she even got the chance to get along.

"Are you done?" he asked.

"I think-" no. She once again wretched into the bin.

"You are so lucky most parents of first-years wait till the last minute to go shopping."

Hermione coughed and wretched once or twice more before rising. "You have no idea how happy that sentence just made me."

"I imagine more relieved than happy," he said handing her a kerchief.

"Thank you," she said wiping her mouth and hands. "Any idea where the nearest toilet might be? I need to wash my hands-and probably everything else."

"About a minute or two that way," he pointed.

"A minute?" she sighed. "Sixty seconds was all I had to wait..."

"I've been over-seeing disapparation licensing for a decade, love. I've seen much worse from much older witches and wizards. Let's go, I'll get you some water and will be waiting just outside the door."

Hermione washed her hands, rubbing them fiercely under hot water. She quickly splashed her face with cold water and stared at the face before her. Olive skin flushed pink across her nose and cheeks, her brown eyes watering and red-rimmed, her lips cracked. She did what she could to make herself look like less of a mess.

"How are you feeling?" her father asked as she took a seat at the table he claimed.

She could barely hear him over the din of patrons chattering over tea and coffee. She nearly crept away to spy on what looked like a trio of fifteen-year-olds. If she could see how they behave, she could mimic it. Something she wished occurred to her back when she watched from the window. However, she knew how that would end if she were caught, and she imagined her father was worried.

"Like I swallowed a litre of lye," she muttered taking her cup of water. "Thank you. You said this is normal?"

"Not uncommon," he said feeling her forehead. "You are a touch warm though. Perhaps we should try again tomorrow."

"So I can relive this?" she scoffed. "We're already here, and to be frank, I would like the past century with my head in the bin to be worth something."

"Century?" he scoffed. "Do five minutes constitute a hundred years now? Children have no concept of time."

"So, I engaged in a little hyperbole," she shrugged.

"Even being hyperbolic, I don't see anyone much older than you saying that."

The first thing they did was head to Ollivander's. The store was surprisingly empty with a white-haired lean man humming to himself as he sorted long boxes on seemingly endless shelves. The place was dark, but whimsical, like the used bookshop in a novel she read once.

"Just a moment!" the man sang before near skipping up to the counter. "Severus Snape? I barely recognized you! I suppose it's been twenty years. Yes I remember you and your little friend coming in here all those years ago-"

"I'm not here to take a stroll down memory lane," he said coolly.

"Very sorry, fancies of an old man," he apologized. "What brings you around these parts?"

In that one cut-off sentence Hermione heard more about her father's childhood than she had in nearly eleven years. She wished she knew who his "little friend" was. Inseparable mates from before? Maybe neighbours? Two boys close as brothers? Or maybe it was a girl? Could she be her mother? The only person who's past she knew less about than her father's was her own. Not that it bothered her...not one bit!

She would give anything for the man go on.

"My daughter will be starting at Hogwarts this year." he said running a hand through Hermione's hair.

"Oh very good!" he said. "Come along, dear! I know exactly what to get for you..."

He didn't. Hermione tried three or four wands that had no effect or disastrous effects. She once thought she'd levitated a bottle of ink only to see the thing explode. She shrank under her father's gaze. She felt as though she was throwing away everything she had read about. She had hoped so much that she would be a good witch, but here she was screwing it up.

Worse was the cold reception the kind man got from her father when he had the nerve to ask about Hermione's mother. She began to wonder if he actually _had _found her in a box of free kittens. She was open to the idea of her being adopted, but the icy comments made anytime someone asked about her origins made her think there was something more personal to her story. She knew better than to ask.

Hermione left with a wand that _spoke_ to her. Something she'd once scoffed at when reading about wandcraft in the library. She couldn't describe it. But she felt she had _control_ with the olive wand and dragon heart-string cord. She felt that she knew what she was doing with that wand. Certainty and control.

The sunbathed cobbled alley-ways twisted between buildings of every shape and colour as people milled about in packs. For the first time Hermione noticed the myriad of scents wafting through the sky. Now that her stomach stopped churning she could appreciate the fairytale-esq district and the feats of magic performed on every corner. Her eyes scanned the area looking for other children, but she could barely focus her attention. She had never seen so many people in all her life, nor had she seen so much happening all at once.

The two weaved through the throng and Hermione found a young woman entertaining a group of younger children with flying glass canaries. The glint of the sun shone golden off their carefully detailed wings. She couldn't wait until she could do something so fantastic. She turned her head to see the tall lean figure of her father disappearing between the crowd.

"Is it normally so busy?" she asked jogging to catch up with her father after her most recent distraction.

"Actually," he mused. "I believe it's normally much worse. Yes, I remember when I was your age I could barely walk a centimetre before running into someone else."

"Really?" she could hardly believe anything would be more packed.

"Must you doubt everything I say, child?" he said taking her hand. "Do try to keep up."

"Yessir."

They came upon a shop called Madam Malkin's. They entered a near empty shop greeted by a plump matronly looking woman with wiry grey hair and dark eyes who was perhaps in her sixties. Though Hermione was a terrible judge of age, so she could be wrong. Her father talked to the old woman, money was exchanged and her turned to her.

"There's something I have to do," he told her with a characteristic lack of detail. "I want you to _stay here _until I come back. Am I understood?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

"Alright, little girl," he said resting a hand on her head. "I won't be too long, I promise."

"I'll see you then, Dad."

After he left Madam Malkin lead Hermione in back where she found another girl around her age standing in front of a mirror. She was about a head taller than Hermione, lean and stood with a self-importance that reminded her of girls like Heather George. She turned to face Hermione and her stomach churned at the bemused smile across her face.

The girl wasn't stunning, but she was pretty. She had round dark eyes and a flat nose on a round pale face framed with glossy black hair gathered over her shoulder with a green scrunchie. Hermione had shared one physical trait with the girl, that was almost complete racial ambiguity. Though where Hermione was simply ambiguous, it seemed to her that the girl with the unimpressed smile had features that fit on several beauty standards. She felt this girl would be considered kind of pretty anywhere she went. Hermione knew better, but she was jealous of that fact.

"Hullo," she said, her smile still unimpressed.

"Hi," Hermione nodded to her with a meek smile. _First time you're meeting a girl your age. Don't screw this up!_

The bell over the door rang and Madam Malkin left them alone to tend to whoever the other customer waiting was.

"By Merlin," the girl said. "I hope you brought a book. This is the third time that woman's walked out on me."

_Must be because she's the only one here_, Hermione thought but said: "Yeah, that has to be frustrating. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for that hag," the girl rolled her eyes. "Not your fault, now is it?"

"I suppose not," she sighed. "Are you here with anyone?"

"My mother is off doing something or other, couldn't be bothered telling me." she groaned dramatically.

"I just _love_ how grown-ups think we can't handle a lick of information!"

"I know, right?" the girl exclaimed. "Bunch of bloody dolts, the lot of them!"

Hermione moved a lock of hair out of her face and covered her mouth as she faked a giggle. She hoped it looked natural. Hermione didn't think she liked this girl, and she didn't seem impressed with her. But perhaps if Hermione mimicked behaviour she'd seen other girls do than the girl with the unimpressed smile might like her enough to talk to her on a semi-regular basis.

"At least you have pretty eyes," the girl examined her critically. "A symmetrical face too, it's a shame about the hair and teeth. You could have been pretty."

_You bitch! __It's a shame about your personality, you could have been a decent human being! _"Yeah," she laughed with tact. "Genetics, am I right? I'll have to fix it when I'm older." _Where the hell is your backbone, girl?_

"That's probably a good idea," she smiled and extended her hand. "I'm Pansy Parkinson."

"Hermione," she took the hand with a forced smile.

"Do you have a last name, Hermione?" she laughed.

"It doesn't matter," she shrugged.

"Doesn't matter?" Pansy Parkinson scoffed. "Of course it matters! For instance I'm a Parkinson, so I'm part of the Great Eight wizarding families. I come from a long line of fabulously talented pureblood witches and wizards! Where you come from is like the single most important thing in our world! You must be a bloodtraitor or a mudblood."

"And what if I am?" Hermione hissed. "Perhaps I don't have a name that reaches back to the middle-ages, with famous relatives. But at least I have integrity. Something you and the Parkinsons back to _Wilhem Parkinson_ have lacked since then. Yes, didn't he sell his first wife and daughters out to the Catholic church so he and his at the time lover could flee Scotland with their son? If that's not betrayal at its worst in the wizarding world, I don't know what is. But do enlighten me, heir to _fabulously talented witches and wizards_!"

"How did you know all of that?" Pansy Parkinson barked.

_Bark...now that I think of it, you do look rather pug-like. _"Because I'm literate and happen to be inclined to take a book off the shelf once in a blue moon. Something you might benefit from." she said coolly. _That might have been harsh, and now you sound like your damn father._

"You stupid, ugly bitch!"

"Oh, I am so hurt!" she rolled her eyes. "Maybe try an insult I haven't heard before. If you're capable. I can wait. I 'brought a book'!"

The two sat in silence waiting for the tailor to return. Hermione sat doing exactly what Pansy Parkinsons had suggested. How many times had she read through the abused copy of _Son of Hermes_? She started the thirtieth chapter where the three main characters meet in secret to escort a dragon egg to a magizoologist after having fought a trio of harpies. Normally, she would be absorbed but she kept covertly looking at the fuming and now pink Pansy Parkinson.

"Sorry, dears," Madam Maulkin said entering the room.

"Finally!" Pansy Parkinson groaned.

Madam Maulkin worked on Pansy Parkinson's robe first, listening with curt grunts as the girl insulted the tailor. Hermione waited patiently pretending to read her book as she tried to decipher any insecurities that she could use later if they were to run into each other in the corridors, or worse, end up in the same house. So far all she had was that she was too proud of her family history. She thought, as someone with an abundance of insecurities, that it was wrong to hunt for them in someone else, but she hated this girl.

"I am _so, so _sorry, Madam Maulkin," Hermione told her after she left.

"Oh dear god," a voice from behind her said. "What did she do now?"

_That man's timing is impeccable! _she groaned internally.

"Oh," Madam Maulkin said. "_She _was fine. It was her little friend that was a monster."

"Friend?" he asked.

"Friend is a generous word, we just met." Hermione explained. "And I don't think she liked me...or anyone aside from herself for that matter."


	5. B1Chapter 4: Defiance

_Name: Unknown_

_Magical/Muggle?: Witch_

_Age: 10-15 months _

_Sex: Female_

_Weight: 3.5 Kg_

_Hair: Brown_

_Eyes: Brown_

_Family History: Unknown_

_History and Condition:_

_Infant girl found in Muggle London Chinatown, likely abandoned. Lungs severely underdeveloped with mild pneumonia. Malnourished, anaemia caused by either respiratory distress or poor nutrition. Signs of gastrointestinal distress. No signs of physical trauma, body temp low._

Ten years had past, which gave Severus the right to claim the file. A strange system, but one he was more than happy to take advantage of it. He read Hermione's treatment course but found his eyes going back to the description of her condition. _Malnourished?_ That didn't seem right. Hermione's birth parents were stupid children, in way over their heads, but he couldn't see them being neglectful to the extent of starving her..._purposely. _He remembered one of the panicked conversations he'd overheard through the thin walls that summer.

_"Why isn't she gaining weight?" Catherine cried. "I've been feeding according to schedule!"_

_"I don't know...Have you tried everything the doctor said? I mean _everything_."_

_"Of course I am, Ren! Jesus Christ!" she screamed. "It's not like I _want _her to be sick!"_

_"For Christ's sake, Cat! No one is accusing you of that!"_

_"You are!"_

_"Maybe if we just-"_

_"NO!" she shrieked. "We are _not _getting help. We're smart, we can do this on our own. We _have_ to do this on our own."_

_A string of curses and Hermione's cries joined the shouting match as well. Before long there was a trio of distinct voices sobbing. And then Catherine's voice formed words, perhaps louder than she intended:_

_"My mother had four other kids before me. I can feed her myself, my body was made for this..."_

Musing on Hermione's papers, Severus wondered if the girl knew how much damage her damn pride did to Hermione. She was smaller than she should be, she was landed in the hospital and despite their early separation, Hermione was just as neurotic and stubbornly independent as her birth-mother. Not that her birth-father was any better, both were self-destructive in their pursuits and Hermione didn't seem to rise above it.

"Though, of course _your _pride and neuroses have done no damage whatsoever to the girl," a voice teased. "No, you've been father of the goddamn year."

"I'm dreaming..." he sighed turning his face from the burning emerald eyes staring him down.

"Does that make me wrong, Sev?" Lily leaned over his desk and turned his face to her. "If this is your dream and I'm saying this, what does that say about you?"

"That I need to stop working before bed," he murmured before rising and gathering the files. "I know it's not you. Lily was never so cruel."

"Perhaps I was," she said following him. "All you have are memories of an idea. Can you honestly say that you _knew_ me."

"I knew _her_," he spat. "All you are is-"

"A figment of your mind?" Lily hissed grabbing his arm with cold talon-like hands. "Almost ten years since the real me died and I'm still kicking around in your brain almost every night. Why do you think that is?"

_Ignore her...ignore it! She's not real. _His stomach churned and a chill ran down his spine. Every fibre of his being fought to move away from her, but he couldn't tare his eyes from the replica staring daggers at him. He knew exactly why she haunted his dreams for so many years. She didn't need to say it.

"You killed us. You knew that long before we actually died," she spat. "Your attempts to save us were as useless as you are now."

"I know..." he sighed. "If I knew then what I know-"

"Oh, save it!" Lily snapped. "This is _your_ dream remember? I'm a manifestation of your guilt and you know exactly what that means."

Icy tendrils clutched at Severus's heart and lungs. This was all fake, but he could feel the tears beginning to form and his throat tighten. He could separate the form before him from the woman he loved, but despite the clearly different dispositions, they had the same voice, same face, same eyes. Even when he had more control of his dreams, he merged the two eventually. "Lily, please-"

"It means that some part of you _knows _that everything I'm saying is true!" she snapped.

"I know."

"You deserve this!"

Severus woke at his desk, his head buried in the hospital files. He wondered when he fell asleep, but he could tell by the stiffness in his neck it had been a while. He threw the files back together and went to put them in a desk drawer until he could decide what to do with it later.

"For the love of Merlin," he groaned.

When the hell did he start a rubbish drawer? Upon opening the damn thing he was confronted with a stack of journals, unbound papers, rolls of parchment and loose rolling inkwells. At least he had a reason to stay awake...

He emptied it and set about organizing piles according to frequency of use. A vibrant bit of pink caught his eye. Had he really kept that there? He delicately pulled out the misshapen pink paper heart. Two painted stick figures held hands, one drawn in black, the shorter in brown with messy labels reading "_Daddy" _and _"Me"._ Hermione was just barely four when she drew it, sprawled out on the floor with a slew of paints and paper. When she finished she presented it to him, beaming. Of the few things he kept from those days, he remembered why he kept this in his office. He couldn't look at it without seeing her bright smiling face. The way she looked at him back then, she trusted him so thoroughly.

He lost that trust a long time ago and hadn't a clue how to earn it back. The Yamoto boy was just the latest in a long list of betrayals. Why did he even do it? Everything else he could justify, at least in the moment...but he didn't even have that. He simply didn't want to lose her...but she needed to have someone else in her life eventually. But what if something happened? Such a fragile little thing, and so eager to please or impress; she'd already proven she was willing to defend those who were cruel to her...Was it any wonder he worried about her peers taking advantage of her?

_What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

* * *

It was already sent. She already sent it. Hermione snuck into the owlery that morning before they left and sent the letter to Hiro Yamato. She wondered how long it would take to receive mail and reply. Japan wasn't exactly close. And would he reply? What if got it and thought she was lying about losing the mail? What if he never sent a letter in the first place? They were supposed to be in correspondence since September, it was now July. If he did send one out, he might have stopped a long time ago. Hermione had no proof the recent charred paper was actually from a letter.

What if he wanted nothing to do with her? The first time she met someone her own age it didn't go well. Pansy Parkinson was truly awful. But before she had any evidence that Hermione's personality didn't mesh with her own she hated her. She remembered the unimpressed smile she gave her on sight. At least Hiro would have no idea what she looked like...unlike every student in her year. She had so much working against her, Hermione didn't even know where to start.

All she could do was wait, and she hated it. What if-

_Stop it. You'll go__ mad,_ she told herself as she pulled the blankets over her head and curled up into a tight ball. Sleep would eventually come to her. She just had to stop thinking about the damn letter. Hermione hadn't always been a perfect daughter, and she certainly pushed lines with the rules, but this was the first time she'd ever _directly _went against her father's wishes. She wasn't sure what would happen if he ever found out, but what upset her more was the possibility that he found out and Hiro couldn't be bothered. Then she'll have done all this for nothing.

_All this, you idiot! _she admonished herself. _All you did was write a short letter and send it out. Just got to sleep, just go to sleep...Why did I send it? I did this to myself! _Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think about anything else. She brought up an image in her head of a book she had recently read. She categorically ran down the list of magical properties of common British woods.

Hermione's mental recitations of readings were interrupted by the muted creak of the door. Had she been asleep or there had been other noise she imagined she wouldn't have heard it. She wondered what he had been doing, but she wasn't sure if she'd be caught if she craned her neck out to the living-area. _It's not like he's going to be carrying evidence of whatever the hell he's been doing. Just go to sleep..._

Morning came with the shrill cry of the rooster and Hermione forced herself out of bed. She rubbed her eyes and stretched before seeing a pair of yellow eyes facing her from the head of her bed.

"Aren't you supposed to be nocturnal?" she hissed under her breath.

Like Hermione and her father, Archimedes didn't seem to have consistent sleep and wake times. Something that irritated Hermione as it often was necessary to bribe him before sneaking out. Considering her inconsistent sleep, she wondered if that was evidence she might be related to her father. She knew she shouldn't care about that, or who her biological mother was or possibly biological parents were. Hermione might not have had the most normal upbringing or family, but they still cared for each other and she didn't want him thinking he wasn't good enough. He was...she just wanted to know where she came from.

"Good morning," her father peered over the paper.

"Morning, Dad," she stifled a yawn with her hand. "This is unusual."

"You mean a morning where you haven't scampered off to some unknown corner of the castle?" he asked. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"I hardly have the energy to 'scamper' before seven," she smiled and sat opposite him.

"Yet other words I might use such as 'crept' or 'snuck' would imply you were trying to evade detection," he set the paper down. "That can't be it now, can it?"

"Why, father," she gasped dramatically. "You would accuse me of such mischief? I'm deeply wounded."

"Of course not, love," he smirked. "I'm _implying _it."

"If the teaching thing doesn't work out you should try stand-up."

"That'll happen the day you become a professional quidditch player," he turned the page. "Oh, look, there's an opening on the Irish team."

"Oh, hardy-har-har," she groaned in response. "I take back what I said about you doing stand-up."

"I'm simply devastated," he said. "You used to be such a sweet little girl. I haven't a clue what happened."

"Why do I feel like every parent says that as their child gets older?" Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "What's on the docket for today?"

"The headmaster has made his decision on the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher so he'll be announcing that," his tone told her he once again didn't get it. "And then we'll be updating syllabi and safety procedures."

"That sounds like a lovely way to kill eight hours," she sighed. "I wonder how this one will be ousted. I bet they resign before Exams."

"What makes you say that?" he raised a curious eyebrow.

"I only really remember the last six professors, Let's see," she began to count on her fingers. "Professor McCleary retired at the end of term, Professor Jackson left in May for an emergency of some kind, Professor Adams literally left without a word on the first week of June, then Professor Archibald didn't come back in January after break, there was Professor Wren who stayed the term, but then last year Professor Izin had...well you know the details better than I do, but he also left in May."

"I remember, Hermione," he said. "I was there too. Your point is?"

"My point in just my memory there were four out of six that didn't make it to the exam period," she mentally tallied the numbers. "That's a sixty-seven percent chance they quit before exams and a 100% chance they don't make the year. With a margin of error of course, and sixty-seven isn't much higher than fifty, but given what information I have I'm pretty confident."

"I've raised a hustler," he groaned. "You would do well to keep your predictions to yourself. I won't have whoever the new hire is crying to me because I've raised a monster."

"Good as forgotten, sir."

"Very well," he rose and placed his hand on her head. "I'm off. _Behave_."

"Yessir," she nodded.

Once he left Hermione dug out her copy of _Standard Book of Spells Grade One_ and began practising the charms in the first chapter. What was supposed to be a day divided into painting, leaning Japanese (it was hard to find any books when raiding the language section of the library, and it like most, concerned itself with survival and magical language), and practising quickly turned into a day where she had spent obsessively practising each spell in the book, much like she did when learning the flute (something Hagrid had made for her "ter pass the time" when she was five, something she imagined drove poor Libby mad when she finished her lessons!). She had practised several spells several times until she saw the room grow darker. She quickly activated the lights, put her wand away and began obsessively note taking on technique and pronunciation.

By the time her father came home she had pages of notes (hastily taken albeit) at her side and she was bent over the fourth chapter, combing through it a second time whilst taking notes.

"You'll ruin both your eyes and your posture if you continue like that," he locked the door behind him.

Hermione sat erect and snapped her head up to meet him. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't apologize to me, love," he combed through her notes. "You'll be the one regretting it before you're twenty."

"Yessir," she nodded.

He set the notes down and moved a strand of hair from her face. "Can we try to be a little less obsessive? I know too well what sort of damage this behaviour can cause."

She wondered what he meant by that, but knew she would never get a real explanation. "Yessir."

* * *

Days passed. Hermione finished the mural, thankful she now had access to magic that she used while the teachers were locked away in the staff room. She was thrilled to spend the rest of her time practising and reading through her school work. She had found a passage off the south wall of the library that she could shut herself up in with some candles.

Hermione could light, extinguish and levitate her candles, she felt ready to tackle transfiguring them before long. Taking long, deep breaths she visualized a long shaft of obsidian forming from the wax. Each droplet of wax crystallizing to shiny, cold, black stone. _I can do_ this... she recited the incantation and went through the instructed motions. Before her where a lit taper stood was now a shaft of obsidian. Her heart leapt. She even stated on a flame that would hopefully eat-away at the candle more slowly and not burn as hot. That was coming along slowly, but she didn't let herself get discouraged.

All of the principles of magic she studied. The Latin, observing students through the window, the laws, it was all coming together. Something she was so frightened she'd struggle with, she now felt flow through her with ease. Everything worked, Hermione was in complete control. This, this she could do. Now, for another task she felt she might fail at.

"I dun like this, Hermione," Hagrid told her. "I've never been ter good at keepin' secrets, y'know."

"Oh, _please_, Hagrid!" Hermione begged. "If there's anything I can do for you or help you with I will!"

"Ya should be studyin', Hermione" Hagrid chuckled. "No use of that big brain of yers goin' ter waste grabbin' blast-ended skrewts."

Hermione scanned the one-bedroom hut for anything she could use. Hagrid lived humbly, she couldn't offer to clean for him, exercise Fang or do help with any of his duties. Anything he wasn't determined to do himself, was off the menu. He loved teaching Hermione about the creatures in the forest, but her father had seen a quick end to that. All she had now was the reflection of a perplexed girl staring back at her from her tea.

"I'll do _anything!" _she pleaded. "I'm not too proud."

Hagrid chuckled. Not cruelly, but with warmth. Everything the giagantic shaggy, black-haired man did radiated warmth. She wondered how she could have ever been afraid of him. He was simply the sweetest person she'd ever met and shuddered to think at the unfair treatment he received from those around him.

"I think the professors puttin' money on you endin' up in yer father's house will be mighty disappointed," he smiled.

"Wait," Hermione put down her tea. "Professors are placing bets on how I'll be sorted?"

"I shouldna said tha'!" Hagrid groaned. "Please, dun tell anyone?"

That! There was her moment, she could use that to...no, she couldn't blackmail Hagrid. She'd have to just get him to agree on his terms. "Of course, Hagrid."

"I suppose," Hagrid smiled stroking his bushy black beard. "If you can keep a secret fer me, I guess I can do ya a favour."

"Honest?" Hermione squeaked leaping from her barrel. "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!"

"I though' this was ter be a secret?" he winked.

Hermione's face flushed and she buried it in her hands.

"I'll take yer young lad's letters and we'll exchange them at the library."

"Honestly, Hagrid, you have _no _idea how much this means to me," she smiled and held his hand. "Thank you. So if you need any-"

"I won' hear nuthin' of tha'," Hagid chuckled again. "Ya better get goin' before yer missed."

"Right!"

* * *

"I am _not _giving you tips on which house to bet on, Flitwick!" Severus snapped. "You and we _all_ know we have much more pressing matters to attend to."

The tiny man flushed and stared at his feet. God, Hermione must've only been six or seven by time she surpassed him in height. Any shame he felt was more than deserved. To bet on a child's future like that. Not that Severus was the epitome of appropriate when it came to the treatment of children, he knew that. But they were betting on _his _child's future. He imagined the poor girl would be simply devastated to find the adults around her behaving in such a manner. If they wanted a spectacle, they had one in Potter, they could leave Hermione the hell alone.

"Anyone else looking to place bets on where a first year is likely to be sorted can search for other candidates," he addressed the room with an exaggerated eyeroll. "I can think of one at least."

"Come now, Severus," Dumbledore said. "You can hardly blame us for our curiosity? I myself have a couple galleons riding on Gryffindor."

"I'm afraid, Headmaster," Severus held back his laughter. "That you will be sorely disappointed." He turned to McGonagall. "_You're _ not mixed up in this nonsense, are you?"

"I assure you, Severus..." McGonagall began. "That I have a galleon on Ravenclaw."

"Don't let the frown fool you," he said. "I'm simply hysterical. Need I remind the lot of you that we are expecting a _very_ important acquisition in a few weeks time? Something that we _need _to protect-"

"And with all this doom and gloom," Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles making Severus feel like a child being lectured. "We could all engage in a little harmless _nonsense _from time to time."

"Who is partaking in this nonsense then?" Severus groaned.

Ten years of teaching and Severus had never seen so many hands in the air at one moment. Every teacher had placed bets, even Binns, who he had previously thought incapable of doing anything outside disjointed lectures and leaving his body behind.

The lot of them decided to proclaim their preferred house. Severus would be lying if he said he wasn't amused by the sheer number of people who had made no contact with her betting with certainty that she would be in Slytherin. _You lot are all in for a bit of a shock this fall. _The ones who weren't losing money on an impossibility were solidly betting on Ravenclaw given the girl's love of the library. That was more likely. Dumbledore would be facing the same disappointment as the ones riding on Slytherin. There was simply no way his timid little bundle of neuroses would be sorted into Gryffindor, he couldn't even imagine it. Sprout was perhaps right, betting on her own house, Hufflepuff.

"No one is to say a word of this to Hermione. She would be devastated."

Severus couldn't help but think of the old muggle book _Phantom of the Opera_ when he spied Hermione bent surreptitiously over a book taking countless notes. The thought of her stalking around the stacks and sleeping among the passages came more naturally than he would like to admit. Perhaps she'd take Pince's place upon her graduation. He liked the idea of her being so close, he could ensure her safety that way. Though as easy as it was to imagine Hermione haunting the library like a fictional character, he simply couldn't imagine her grown.

_I won't have to for sometime,_ he thought as he crept up behind her covering her eyes with his hand.

"Honestly, Dad," Hermione said moving his hand from her eyes. "Did that ever fool me?"

"At one time," Severus sighed placing his hand on her head. "I swear, you used to hang on my every word."

"I also used to drag around a blanket and chew on my hair," Hermione weakly smiled and gathered her books. "Sorry, Dad, I grew up."

"I don't seem to recall ten being considered 'grown' anywhere," he mused. "And I should hope you're not grown yet. You'll be mistaken for a child until you're old. I suppose the hair might add some height though."

"I'm not dignifying that with laughter," Hermione sang despite barely managing to suppress a giggle.

"You already did," he mimicked her sing-song tone putting an arm around her shoulders as they left the library. "Which I think you might be legally bound to do until you're _at least _twenty."

"I don't think so," she smirked. "Last I checked seventeen was the age of majority. September first, 1997 and poof, you suddenly have to earn my laughter."

"I'll have you adequately indoctrinated to my way of thinking by then," he teased.

That evening they had both set aside their work to simply hang out and talk. Something Severus could not remember the last time they had done. Both of them were busy and tasks were the ever-present background of their little chats. Shame came over him when he realised the last time he gave his daughter his undivided attention was years ago. Not spying on her, not chastising her, or using tasks to distance themselves. She deserved better from him, but it seemed every time he resolved to do so he fell back into old patterns.

Perhaps she would fair better than he did during her school years. She was sweet, caring, smart and funny. Characteristics he could attribute to some of his own peers that managed to forge lasting friendships and avoid constant abject brutality. If that couldn't protect her from such treatment, he was right there. What could possibly happen?

* * *

_ Hermione,_

_We're still in lessons. Actually by time I get your reply to this letter we'll have started our August break. Kaori and I will be back home with my mother. So, we weren't quite raised like you, but it is very hard to be the grandchildren of the headmaster! He really pushes us to succeed, and I'll be starting my third year in April. Clubs will be a necessity by then. Kaori is vice-president of the school paper, so I will probably join that. _

_You spend your summers at the school? That has to be lonely! Mamma's what British call a muggle, so we spend summer in Tokyo with her and our friends. I haven't read the _Son of Hermes_ books, but if you start reading _Mahou Koneko Shoujo! _I'll start on yours. Mine's a manga so it'll be easier for you to read than a novel will be for me! Don't let the letters fool you! It takes me forever to write these in English! Though I'm so happy you're trying to learn Japanese! I've sent a book on Japanese for beginners that might help. Kaori says it might be hard for you to get such things in England. In fact, you might want to read that _before _you read the manga. fufu! _

_What else can I tell you? I also love cats, I have a calico kitten name Mochi. Growing up with nothing but girls has made me like silly girly things, my favourite snack is...well Strawberry-Green tea Mochi. So, I wasn't creative with my cat's name! Don't make fun of me. My blood type is A, my father was a wizard...I suppose that's obvious given my last letter and my grandfather! I love music and play the piano, and my favourite flower is the sakura. In April the petals fall like snowflakes. So pretty! _

_Hiro_

This was the third letter Hermione received in secret. Reading Hiro's words sent flutters to her heart. Was it the thrill of the secret? Maybe it was the Hiro she imagined. He seemed so sweet and kind. True all she had was three letters, but there was something so sincere and if she were honest, kind of cute about his letters. She was so happy she had to focus on her school work or she would be consumed with the anticipation of his letters. She grabbed her quill and penned her reply.

_Hiro,_

_Japan is so different! Only having one month off and starting term in April? I wonder if the change is overwhelming where you transition between years while you're still boarding. I'm really curious. Pressure to succeed because of family? Oh, do I ever feel that! My Dad's such an academic, I feel like anything less than perfect would be a disappointment. I can't believe I just wrote that! I could scrap the letter and start again, but I feel like I can be honest with you. _

_I can't wait to start on Japanese, as you can tell by my letters, it's not great! ha ha! I already can read five languages fluently, but this one's really hard. I'll keep practicing my Kanji though! I don't know if I want to join a school club or not. A school paper does sound neat though! _

_Intimate details after three letters? You might as well start calling me Hermi-chan! Let's see, I don't have any pets, but Dad has an owl named Archimedes, and he is a piece of work! Not cute at all! Snacks...I like fruit, strawberries and oranges. Maybe that's a boring answer. I don't know my blood type, I know that's something you put focus on in Japan, but we don't here. I am curious though, I might ask Dad if he's in a good mood. If not, I won't. I can play the flute, but I'm no great musician. Sakura sounds so pretty! I would love to see them falling as they bloom! My favourite flower, I never thought of it before. I think Lilies are pretty, but I'm biased. One of my middle names is named after them. Of course, my father being my father gave me the Latin name of the flower family! Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape. My name is so damn long! Picturing sakura blossoms though, if I ever see them in person, I might change my mind. _

_I'll get to work on Japanese immediately!_

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

Hermione magically dried the ink and placed the letter in an envelope. She carefully put tucked it into her copy of _Neko Sensei Teaches Japanese: A Guide for Young Language Learners!_ She would read that after she finished practising her Defence Against the Dark Arts spells.

Nearly two weeks since she sent her first letter and Hermione had this down to an art. After breakfast, she and her father left together, she went to the library, he went to the staff room. She would set herself up at a table tucked into the stacks near the passage. She read and worked until Hagrid came with around one with either an update or a letter, and Hermione would give him hers. Once he left, she would go to the secret corridor and practice her spells until four. Then she would slip out, reunite with her father and walk to their living quarters as if nothing happened.

She had to restrain herself from skipping as she left the passage. Two hours passed since she wrote her reply and she was absolutely giddy about giving it to Hagrid to send off the next day. Some part of her knew not to be so damn flighty, Hiro might have been nothing like his letters after all. And it's not like the first person close to her age she had extended contact with was a smart decision for her little crush, but..._Damn, I will never meet this boy and I have a crush on him? I'm such an idiot..._ No amount of chastising herself could change her mind. She felt like someone finally understood her. Like someone finally wanted her. Years of being a pest, a chore, in the way, and now someone was excited to exchange letters with her.

Only three letters in and she was already hoping this would never end.

That was why it hit her so hard when it did.

The next morning Hermione set about her usual ritual. Given the empty state of the library, she made an exception to her self-inflicted rules and started on Japanese. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure there were no witnesses and shuddered at what she knew she must do. She grabbed on of the "rescued" volumes of _Third grade Potions _that was bound for the fire place (it reminded her a bit of a volume that nearly disitingrated in her hands). She unbound both books and switched the covers. Now someone would have to be reading over her shoulder to know she was reading Japanese. She would have to burn the other book.

With what little she knew, she started a basic letter to go with her English one.

_Hiro!_

_This might not be good. I started learning Japanese. I can know kanji and romanji for some basics. Sakura is a super pretty character! I will read the manga in its Japanese and send a reply with my thoughts. Even if it kills me! _

_Until Later,_

_Hermione_

She dried the ink and lovingly placed in her envelope. She couldn't wait for Hiro's reply. She had to stop herself from foolishly beaming at Hagrid when she spied him approaching her table.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Hermione took out the letter. "How are you doing?"

"I-erm-" Hagrid struggled. "I've get some bad news, Hermione."

"Are you okay?" Hermione leapt up and began examining the massive man.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he chuckled, ruddiness returning to his cheeks. "I just have ter-erm-Dumbledore's got me on a special assignment, ya see."

"Oh," Hermione forced a smile as her heart dropped. "Which means you can't help with the letters anymore."

Hagrid's black eyes glinted with warmth and understanding, but also turned away from her. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine!" Hermione squeaked with a grin. "The headmaster is trusting you with something important. I completely understand! Really, it's awfully selfish of me to expect you to play owl between us. Honestly, it's okay!"

"Yer don' seem too-"

"Hagrid, I'm _fine!_" Hermione insisted. "You worry far too much."

"Are ya sure abou' tha'?"

"Yes!" she squeaked gathering her things. "I just-erm-I'm not feeling very well. I-er-I have to go!"

Hagrid knit his bushy black eyebrows in confusion before taking her hand. "I can send the letter you have. But yer okay, aren' ya?"

If Hermione looked half as shitty as she felt then he knew the answer. Her face flushed warm, and she imagined it looked something like sakura petals, her chest tightened and her heart throbbed. She felt dizzy, like all the days she spent working instead of feeding herself caught up to her at once. Was disappointment always so crippling? It wasn't as if he'd be gone forever, once he was back they could pick up again, but what if Hiro took the pause..._You stupid little girl, _she chided herself, _it was three letters. This won't change a damn thing and you know it._

"How long will you be gone?" she asked.

"Till September first."

_September first! That's...It's not even August yet. _Hiro had a whole month of nothing after a whole year of nothing. What if he thought she didn't like him? What if he thought she was mad at him? What if he was relieved he didn't have to send her letters at the behest of his grandfather anymore...That made Hermione's stomach churn.

"Wow," she said. "What's the assignment?"

"I can' tell yer tha'!" Hagrid gasped. "It's a secre' on behalf o' Albus Dumbledore. Meaning no' fer yer ears! Even if yer look like tha'!"

"Like what?" Hermione asked.

"Like a unicorn foal, all big eyes an' such," Hagrid teased.

"You caught me!" Hermione laughed. She had no idea she was doing it. "But I'm really not feeling well, so I should get going. Enjoy your trip!"

_This isn't the end of the world, _she told herself as she headed to the dungeons. _Just write another letter explaining you have to go dark for a month. Say your family owl is sick, you're supposed to be smart. Just think of something...you stupid piece of shit..._Hermione never even met the boy. It wasn't Hagrid's fault. It was stupid to be so enraptured after a few letters that she was mad at Hagrid for having a life outside of her cloak and dagger love letters. _Love letters!_ she scorned. "Ugh! I _am_ a stupid bitch!" she muttered to herself slapping her forehead.

"I don't know whether to chastise you for your language or ask if everything is alright."

"Sorry, sir!" she spun around to meet her father's withering gaze. "I'll watch my language."

"And the reason for yourself degradation is...?"

Hermione shouldn't have to justify that. If she was calling herself stupid it was because said, did or thought something stupid. How many times had he himself called her a little idiot? Honestly, she wasn't hurting anyone, so she shouldn't have been chastised for it. "I just can't seem to wrap my head around Gamp's Five Laws. It's written in English, I'm certain. And last I checked I was literate, so I honestly have no excuse."

This was true enough. She had wanted to read the laws to understand the fundamentals of what she did. But reading Gamp's law of Transfiguration _did_ make her feel like a moron...If she was clever than she would understand it.

"Save for the minute fact Gamp's Five Laws is something covered in NEWTs ," he explained moving a lock of hair out of her face. "So you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Now can you _please _mind your damn language?"

* * *

"Honestly, bird-brain?" Hermione's voice groaned.

A squeaky muffled giggle followed. "Archimedes _is _an owl, Miss Hermione."

"I know, I know," she sighed. "I just... really like squirrels."

"Squirrels is pests, Miss Hermione!" Libby informed her.

Severus was going to miss waking up to this nonsense. Starting tomorrow he would have nothing but silence in the morning. It was true he could simply start taking meals with the other professors, but he'd miss the daily dose of banter. He wondered if she knew how much silly moments like that meant to him. He wondered if they meant as much to her.

He entered the living area to see what triggered Hermione's disgust. The sight of Archimedes digging at a squirrel's entrails on the windowsill would be etched in the poor girl's mind for at least a week. "What happened?"

"Oh, Archimedes is just reminding me why I don't eat meat, eggs or dairy..." Hermione tried a cool observational tone, but her disgust shone through. She turned back to stare at the gorging bird. "Or anything else..._ever."_

"If it disturbs you so much don't look!" he snapped turning her to face him. "This is precisely what will land you in the hospital again."

"You do know I don't remem-Nope, sorry, I'm going to be sick!" and with record speed she ran off.

"For the love of-" he sighed grabbing his wand.

He moved the squirrel corpse out the window and watched the damn owl pursue it. Severus had considered offering up Archimedes to Hermione's care, but she would not want anything to do with him for at least a while. How the girl could have been handling organs of various creatures since she was three or four but she couldn't handle the simple sight of a predator catching prey. Didn't she want a cat? Last he checked they ate squirrels too.

"I swear every damn thing makes that girl sick!" he grumbled digging one of many anti-nauseate potions he kept in the cupboard.

"Libby is going to check on Miss Hermione," she squeaked awkwardly.

"Don't bother," he said. "She would never forgive me if I sent you in after her like this."

"Miss Hermione is a very private girl," Libby agreed.

"Indeed."

"And Libby will leave after cleaning the windowsill!"

With a snap of her fingers the blood stains and entrails were gone which was followed by another snap and the elf returned to the kitchens.

Severus knocked on the door. "Are you alright?"

Hermione answered with more retching.

"I'm coming in!" he shouted.

"Please don-" and more sick.

He ignored her. Leaning over her he saw that it was almost clear. _It's not blood, _he thought in relief. That hadn't happened since her lungs were first regrown. Their concern with her lungs made them miss her other patchwork organs. None of the others had to be regrown, but repaired. Had she been raised with the muggles she might have been fine but with a sickly disposition. At least he had to tell himself that. Even with the repairs he didn't trust Hermione was completely better.

"I swear I'll vomit on you," Hermione murmured with what anger she could muster.

"I promise you've made good on that threat in the past many times," he said kneeling next to her. "It didn't bother me then, it doesn't bother me now. If you've stopped long enough to chastise me, you've stopped long enough to take this."

She nodded and thanked him before gingerly taking vial.

"I certainly hope this isn't a sign that you'll take poorly to the train ride," he teased.

Hermione had barely gotten the potion down when she started once more.

_You idiot! How did you expect her to react? _"I'll go get another one. Just stay right where you are."

"Wasn't thinking of going anywhere..." she murmured between heaves.

This was not how he imagined spending their last morning together. Hermione eventually recovered and set about grabbing her things. One suitcase, a cauldron and a school bag. Was that really all she had to bring? It wasn't as if she would be truly without if she forgot anything, but glancing round the room he didn't spy anything she would miss. Outside of asking for a cat when she was younger she never really asked for anything. At least nothing that didn't involve her leaving. Yet, he somehow felt he had not truly provided for her faced with the totality of what she carried. Something he never thought he would be bothered by.

"Do you need help carrying anything?" he asked.

"No thanks, Dad, I got this," she smiled.

He smiled weakly at her and ushered her out. "Alright then, let's catch your train."

Standing on the platform they waited for the conductor to let her board. Hermione held the strap of her bag with a white-knuckled grip as she stared at the plumes of smoke snaking upward to the blue sky. She seemed pale, her doe-eyed expression didn't leave when she turned her head down. Torn between staring at the train and her feet, she reached a middle ground, with chin turned down and eyes staring up. It made him think of an injured injured fawn that just just met realised she was on the menu.

"I wonder," he said slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Just what is going on through that little head of yours. Care to enlighten me?"

Hermione bit her lip and wrung her hands together. "It's stupid, honestly," she shrugged.

"Are you still worried about that nonsense?" he scoffed. "You'll be fine, love."

"Yessir," she nodded, eyes now fixed on her hands.

"And still you seem unconvinced." _Say something comforting, idiot!_

Hermione continued to stare at her hands as she took to digging her nails into the opposite hand. He watched critically for a moment before she saw her draw blood on one of her fingers.

"What about the other little girl you met at Diagon Alley?" he offered taking her hands. _I swear you're more self-destructive than your birth-mother!_

"Oh yeah," she squeaked a forced laugh. "I'm just thrilled to reconnect with the girl who within a minute of meeting me called me a stupid, ugly bit-Language, oops."

"She called you what?" he softened his tone while examining the red crescent marks on her hands. "What was the girl's name?"

"It doesn't matter," she sighed. "You did always say kids are cruel. I'm sure I'll get used to it."

_I've created a nervous wreck! _"I wasn't advocating for complacency, Hermione," he sighed closing the open wound. "There's a difference between being prepared and acceptance. I certainly didn't raise some withering wall-flower. Don't 'get used' to chronic mistreatment, love."

"Yessir," she nodded. "You must be so thrilled not to wake up in the morning to me arguing with Archimedes."

Normally he'd chastise her for changing the subject, but he was happy to take the bait. This was a conversation neither of them were ready for. "Well, it certainly kept my mornings exciting."

"At this point I don't imagine there's any harm in bringing up the fact that I know the professors were betting on what house I'd be sorted into," she forced a smile. "What house did you bet on?"

"Nothing, naturally," he said. "I had no interest in taking part in such nonsense. Do you still have no preferences?"

"I'll settle for a house you don't have a pathological hatred for," she laughed more sincerely. "So anything but Gryffindor."

"I do not have a pathological hatred of Gryffindor," he laughed tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know you'll have a much easier time making friends if they _aren't _convinced you're a sentient hairball. I knew there was a little girl under there somewhere," he chuckled tapping her nose.

"You're hilarious," she rolled her eyes with a smirk. "And name _one _Gryffindor you actually liked."

"ALL ABOARD!" the conductor yelled.

"We'll talk after you've been sorted," he said kissing her forehead.

"That's cheating," she giggled before hugging him. "I'll see you tonight. Love you, Dad."

"It's not cheating," he said returning the hug. "It's waiting for more data points. I love you too. _Behave."_

He watched her board the train with a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. She was in for a _long trip _to platform nine and three-quarters and back. He didn't see the point in her going when she was already at the school. He supposed Dumbledore had a point in her not standing out during the sorting ceremony, but it cut into what little time he had left. He hated to admit it, but he simply wasn't ready for how different everything would be once the train left the station.


	6. B1Chapter 5: Sorting

"Trevor!"

"I got him!" Hermione shouted diving for the toad.

She had a hold of the round-faced boy's toad for about half a second before the bloody thing leapt from her hands and out of the compartment. There she was on her stomach, her reaching hands empty. The girls on the bench opposite them giggled relentlessly as she got to her knees and she turned to the boy.

She couldn't be certain which of the two of them they were laughing at. The boy's round face pinked and his blue eyes threatened to brim over. Hermione had a chance to make a friend here and she completely blew it. He seemed so upset, she just wanted to fix it.

"I got this!" she leapt to her feet. "I promise!"

"Looks like the hairball has a thing for big fat cry-babies!" Pansy Parkinson cackled.

The blond girl and the brown-haired girl on either side of her giggled harder.

"That was uncalled for!" one of the dark-skinned twin girls snapped.

The other blonde girl in between the two twins stopped giggling after both girls shot her a withering glance.

"Ignore them," Hermione squeaked taking the boy's hands. "I'll take the back end, you take the front. We'll cover more ground that way. Besides," Hermione cast a withering glance at Pansy Parkinson. "I can barely hear myself think over that Banshee's wail that qualifies for laughter. Honestly, I'd _rather _listen to a banshee."

"I'm Neville Longbottom," the boy said after they left the compartment, his eyes still downcast.

"Hermione," she smiled. "And we'll find your toad, Trevor was it?"

"Yeah," he said.

Hermione stalked the narrow corridors between the compartments before swallowing her fear and knocking on each of the compartment doors.

"Aren't you Snape's brat?" asked an older Gryffindor girl.

"Katie," A boy with dreadlocks rolled his eyes-Lee Jordan that was his name.

"Can you blame me?" she hissed, obviously unaware Hermione could hear. "Her father's a complete monster and she probably is too!"

Lee Jordan sighed and turned to Hermione. "Was there something you needed?"

"I-er-I" she gulped and turned her gaze to her feet. "Aboylostatoadhaveyouseenone."

"I-what?" answered a tall girl with long black hair. "Could you repeat that?"

Hermione repeated herself after a deep breath and focused on her words. The interaction was both embarrassing and fruitless as they hadn't seen the toad. She wished she could purge it from her memory. She'd read enough about self-memory augmentation to know that was nothing more than a fever dream. The girl named Katie was not the only one to recognize her of the upper year students. None of them were particularly kind or patient. One of the cruellest stood out to her.

All the other compartments so far had been full, but this one only had two third year Slytherin students. One she instantly recognised as Heather George, who had found ways to torment her by muttering to people who would listen when she was around. "I feel just awful for the poor thing, she's a wee bit of a social retard". The other was a boy with long red hair that sat opposite her that Hermione recognized from somewhere. She must have seen him around.

"Oh my God," Heather George laughed. "_You _aren't starting school _this _year? Oh daddy's ickle labradoodle is in for a _hell _of a time."

"Why are you even here?" the boy groaned. "Was everywhere else full or did you finally realize being seen within three metres of you is social suicide?"

"I-erm-" Hermione wanted to find her spine again, but after countless interactions like that she simply couldn't. _Sorry, Dad, looks like you did raise a withering wall-flower. _

"O'Malley," Heather George said. "Don't torment the pathetic thing."

Hermione left. If the two saw the toad they probably would have burnt the thing alive just to watch it burn. Small wonder her father kept her locked in her room (more or less) for the past eleven years. They_ were_ going to eat her alive!

"You can do this," Hermione told herself under her breath staring back into her own red-rimmed eyes. "You're supposed to be clever, fix this!"

She ran off to the toilet after that last compartment to compose herself. If she kept her head down and her hair in her face, it might not look like she'd run off to cry. _I am so pathetic!_ This was hardly acceptable behaviour and she knew it. She just had to get out there and find the damn toad. Sure, once Neville found out who she was he wouldn't come within three metres of her. But she gave him her word, and Hermione was a lot of awful things, but she would keep her damn promises.

_Finally, more first years! _ Hermione knocked and slid open the compartment to see two boys her age in muggle clothes surrounded by an assortment of sweets.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "But-er-have either of you guys seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."

"Sorry," the dark-haired bespectacled boy said. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," Hermione forced a laugh and averted her eyes.

That was when she caught the tall red-haired boy holding his wand over his rat.

"Sorry-erm-" she trailed off. "But are you doing magic? I haven't seen anyone my age cast anything before..." Hermione covered her face. "No, no, forget I said anything!"

"And you're sure you're alright, then?" the red-haired boy grimaced.

Hermione shrank on the spot. What the hell was she doing? Could she fake being okay for a moment? At this rate she would be isolated for the next seven years. She should have just left, and she was about to when the red-haired boy spoke.

"I don't mind if you watch," he offered pointing to the bench across them. "Sit down, then."

Hermione obliged with a weak closed-mouth smile. _Keep it together, girl. _

The boy puffed his chest out and cleared his throat. He seemed so certain. She wondered if he was going to transfigure the poor rat, or maybe enlarge or shrink it. That could be amazing! She leaned at the edge of the bench to examine it critically. If the boy was this confident, she would be sure to mimic it.

"_Sunshine daisies..."_

The rat continued to nibble sweets on his lap, still grey and unfazed. The red-haired boy's ears turned pink as he beheld the rat with complete disapointment. "My brother swore it would work..."

"Maybe he lied to you?" Hermione offered drawing her own wand. "Most spells have a base in Latin. Like-erm-" she looked around for something to fix. "Oh! Your specs are broken. Is it okay-erm-if I fix them?"

"Sure," the dark-haired boy said curiously handing them to her. "Not terribly keen on the idea of starting school with cello-taped glasses."

"_Repairo!" _Hermione recited and the nose piece mended. She gingerly unwrapped the tape to reveal the clean, solid metal beneath. "Here."

"Thanks," he said beaming before putting his glasses back on. "I'm Harry."

_Wait...Harry Potter? _she thought. She spied the lightning scar beneath his untidy dark fringe. _I've read so much about you...don't say that! He's probably heard of me too, and I don't want to judge him based on something he doesn't remember. I know how unfair that is..._ She must have been silent too long.

"Yeah," his cheeks flushed pink. "I keep forgetting about that. I-erm-don't really remember anything. I was raised by muggles."

_And probably not kind ones,_ she thought. He was nothing like what she pictured. Her father got after her for neglecting to eat and blaming her stature on it, but Harry Potter, _the _Harry Potter looked legitimately under-nourished. His cheekbones were very pronounced and bony hands protruded from gigantic sleeves. He wasn't short, but he was definitely too lean. And he seemed _kind. _She had expected to be face-to-face with arrogance incarnate, but instead she was met with empathetic green eyes with a desire to shrink away into nothing. Something Hermione knew too well.

"So you probably only have what you've read to go off of," Hermione said. "That can't be easy."

"I-erm-actually haven't really read anything about it either..." Harry admitted.

"Really?" Hermione asked. "I'd want to know everything if it were me...You could have any answer you want!" _You have access to the past you can't remember. It's right there at your fingertips. Why didn't you?_

"Well, I'm not you, am I?" Harry snapped.

_Maybe I was wrong about you... _

"Is it somehow his fault he just found out about everything now then, is it?" the red-haired boy scowled. "Sorry we didn't live up to your expectations, little miss Latin. Why don't you run along on your toad hunt, then?!"

Of course he just found out about all this now. _You _are _a monster! _If he was raised by muggles who couldn't be bothered feeding him, how could she expect him to have access to the past? "Sorry," she sighed. "I just-" _choose your words carefully and don't cry. This is all your fault, now fix it. Fix something! _"I'm sorry, to _both _of you," she stared at her hands and reopened the cut on her finger. "Because of my father's work I've never really gotten to meet other people before. At least not for long. So, I'm kind of-well-a bit of a social retard. I never know what to say." _Why'd you say that? _"Shit! Forget I said anything! Just if you see a stray toad, there'll be a first year boy with black hair and blue eyes named Neville. He'd appreciate it. I have to go."

"A bit mad that one, isn't she?" the red-haired boy said before she was out of earshot.

"Ron!" Harry hissed.

A fruitless search and hours later Hermione heard the squeal of the train breaks, the momentum jerked her forward and she fell to her knees. "Shit," she muttered. She tried to get to her feet but fell over as the crowds pushed forward. Older students walked through or over her in droves as she tried to squeeze between them.

"FIRS' YEARS!" a familiar voice called.

She weaved her way through to the place where first years were supposed to gather and bumped into Neville.

"Did you find him?" he asked with a small voice.

His blue eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and he wavered between despair and hopeful. Was that what she looked like when others compared her to a baby creature? A dry lump formed in her throat as she bit her lip and dug her nails into the back of her hand. She had _one _thing to do and she screwed it up. She could barely stand his disappointment. But now she had to sit next to him on a boat and feel it.

"I'm so _so _sorry, Neville!" she said.

"Thanks for helping me look, though," he smiled at her.

_I failed...why are you thanking me?_

Just her luck, Hagrid had guided first years into a boat and Hermione was not only squeezed in with Neville, but the other two they shared the boat with were Harry Potter and the red-haired boy, Ron. Hermione sat with her knees to her chest wishing she could disappear, surrounded by those she disappointed. They all must have hated her so much. Maybe she deserved it.

* * *

_She's a smart girl, she's a good kid. _Severus told himself as he watched the older students file into the Great Hall. _Whoever she shows up with, where ever she's sorted I am going to be okay with it. _He had been trying to convince himself of this since she left in the morning. He had convinced himself to talk to her about the Yamato boy, it's not like he could monitor her mail now anyway, and a boy half a world away posed no threat. Hermione would be thrilled to hear that, but he also knew he had to be okay with whatever group of girls she found herself in. Other parents didn't have the luxury of seeing what their child was up to, and he had no choice but to allow her the freedoms other children had.

"Y-you d-don't n-normally at-attend th-the s-s-sorting ceremony," Quirrell observed beside him.

They had to assign the position to the old muggle studies teacher, didn't they? Whatever happened to him on the continent, the man acquired more than a stutter. Something was off about him. He would have to keep an eye on him.

"No, I suppose I haven't," he said eyes still on the doors. "Things change, something I imagine you are acutely aware of."

Silence followed that comment.

McGonagall was the next to come through the doors holding her list of first years' names. She paused at the stool and lifted the sorting hat. The forty or so first years followed in after her, double-file before falling into a semi-circular mass. His eyes scanned the crowd looking for Hermione. _I am going to be okay with who ever I find her with. She's perfectly capable-Damn it, baby girl, not _him_!_

Hermione stood clustered with three boys, all of which towered over her. One had to be the newest Weasley, the fatter of the three huddled in close to her as if the small girl could protect him from something, and the last was none other than Harry fucking Potter. He looked so much like his arrogant prat of a father that he could barely see a trace of Lily.

Severus tried to establish eye-contact with Hermione, but she, of course, wasn't paying attention. Weasley muttered something into Potter's ear and Severus stood corrected. Potter had one trace of his mother, her eyes. Bright green, almond-shaped and so misplaced on his father's features behind those glasses. He made eye-contact with the boy and he winced in response, rubbing his scar.

_Honestly, Hermione?_ she fell for whatever his little act was, placing an almost maternal hand on his shoulder. She asked him something as well as the Weasley boy. Potter said muttered something. The three of them exchanged glances before Hermione stood on her tip toes to check Potter's forehead. Weasley said something to Potter again and Hermione shrank, muttering something. The boys looked at her sceptically and she shrank further, biting her lip and clasping her hands, likely digging her nails in between her fingers again.

Did she not pay attention? She read all about Potter's father's exploits. _His _daughter should have known better.

"Abbott, Hannah!" McGonagall called.

Severus turned his thoughts to the almost complete lack of interhouse relations in the school. Hermione would likely never see him again outside of class. That he could live with. After everything James Potter did to him, his son was _not_ going to destroy his little girl's life.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

The round face boy cowering next to Hermione stepped up. After what looked to be a few encouraging words on her part and ushering him forward. The two exchanged a glance and she smiled at him. It was so strange to see, almost maternal. At least the coward would be safe for her to be around.

The hat took longer than he expected with him. And he had to suppress a laugh when the Longbottom boy was sorted into Gryffindor. How the hell did that happen? Amusing as it was he lost interest as he returned to watching Hermione and the boys.

"Potter, Harry!"

The boy came forward to hushed whispers from both his cohorts and students at the tables. Was he actually nervous or was he milking the gazes of the idiots around him? Like Longbottom before him, Hermione and Weasley encouraged him to go forward. _Don't fall for it, you're smarter than this!_ Potter must have gotten all the attention he craved as the hat took _forever _to sort him.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

What a fucking shock! Did it honestly take that long to place the boy? What other prospects did he have? No way he was humble enough to be sorted into Hufflepuff, he doubted the boy had his mother's love of reading, firmly taking Ravenclaw out of the equation, and there was no way in hell someone so self-righteous would be placed in Slytherin.

He joined a loudly cheering table sitting beside Longbottom opposite the Weasley twins. It took an additional five minutes to shut the stupid lot up before McGonagall could continue down the list.

_This is going to be a long seven years._

"Snape, Hermione!"

Hermione did not receive even remotely similar treatment from the Weasley boy. Upon hearing her last name his jaw dropped and he stared at her with a mix of shock and disgust. No kind words or encouraging smile. Just a hissed question he couldn't make out and Hermione slinked forward like a frightened little kitten. She wrung her hands together and shrank beneath the silent glares. He tried to establish eye-contact with her, but her gaze was glued firmly to the ground.

He was right, the hat did take forever with her. Where Potter had no prospects outside of Gryffindor, he could see her being perfectly split between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Trying to suss out whether she was more loyal or wise would be difficult. Hermione had both in spades. Her desire to be invisible, which she was demonstrating quite well, making herself as small as she could, would probably land her in-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

_What the absolute hell?!_

"Everything alright, Severus?" Dumbledore whispered. "You look as if you just had vomit flavoured bean."

"Looks like you won the jackpot, headmaster," he whispered trying to keep an even tone.

He watched Hermione slink over to the Gryffindor table. One of the Weasley twins did what the rest of the table seemed to deem unthinkable and flagged her over. She looked up for an instant, and the twins made room between them, where Hermione shrank, once more trying to vanish.

He was not surprised when Ronald Weasley was placed in Gryffindor, and given the boy's incessant chattering in Potter's ear before he was sorted, he was also unsurprised by him sitting next to Potter.

He kept his eyes glued on Hermione through-out the feast. She didn't touch her food and shrank at pointed questions from Potter and Weasley. The new Weasley said something that caused Hermione to cover her face with her hands. _I swear to God, if that boy made her cry..._

One of the twins said something to Weasley-he would have to find away to mentally separate the three- and the boy shrank.

"You're going to have to be gentle with those boys," Dumbledore said wistfully. "I have a distinct feeling those three are going to be very close friends."

_Are you watching the same table I am?_

However, Dumbledore had a way of knowing things. He hoped he was wrong here.

This was going to be a very long seven years, indeed.


	7. B1Chapter 6: Septemeber Year One

Just her luck, Hermione was the resident ugly girl among two pretty girls. Pavarti was stunning with large black eyes on soft cheekbones and black hair trailing past her waist in a braid and an even medium brown skin. Lavender was pretty with wavy blond hair that fell past her shoulders and rosy cheeks with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile.

She didn't care much for Lavender, she was she seemed to have intense emotional reactions that changed like the breeze. She didn't seem like a bad person, she was just difficult to be around. Pavarti on the other hand seem patient and compassionate, though she didn't seem to go out of her way to bond with Hermione. Neither of them did. But they so far only had one night. Things could change.

Hermione descended the stairs into the common room and searched for a sign anyone was there. She spied Fred and George leaving the porthole, tormenting Ron and Harry. She jogged to catch up to them, but they seemed to increase their pace.

_Maybe it's not intentional_, she told herself and she mustered the courage to call out to them. "Hey, wait up!"

No response. She knew they heard her, the four of them even looked back, but only quickened their pace after. That stung. George defended her last night. Why was he avoiding her now. Maybe Neville would see her.

Hermione sat next to Neville at the table, but he inched as far as he could away from her. He muttered something about losing his appetite and left.

This was going to be a long seven years.

Breakfast was lonely, but morning break was hell. Every time she tried to join a conversation or a group she was shut out. She told herself she would get used to the sight of others walking away from her, pretending they couldn't see her or hear her. At one point a she was even met with a cliched "must be the wind" from a group of second year girls.

Hermione clutched her books to her chest and decided to make a run for the corridor off the library. She kept her head down and told herself not to cry. If anyone saw that she was as good as dead. She weaved through the corridors until she collided into someone.

"Three metres, you pathetic shite!" An Irish voice called.

"Sorry!" she squeaked looking up to see the red-haired Slytherin boy O'Malley.

She finally remembered where they had met and suddenly wished her father _had _expelled him. He was thirteen, she was eleven, he towered over her. What reason had he to treat her so poorly?

"Don't worry, Heather," Pansy Parkinson said loudly as she entered the library. "I already know to stay _far _away from that stupid, ugly cow."

"Shh!" Madam Pince hissed at the girls. "If you're going to cause trouble, Miss Snape, you should just go!"

"Sorry!" Hermione bowed her head repeatedly and backed away.

Hermione ducked into a broom cupboard and let herself sink to the floor and sobbed.

"Get the hell up, you little idiot!" a voice snapped.

"Sorry!" she cried melting into the wall. "I thought I was alone!"

"And I thought I raised a functional human being!" her father spat grabbing her arm."It appears we were both wrong!"

Hermione cautiously rose to her feet.

"This is pathetic!" he continued. "Do you think this is an even remotely appropriate response?!"

Hermione tried to speak but no sounds escaped her lips.

"It's like speaking to a fucking four-year-old! Did I not tell you that the world out there was cruel? Did I not specifically say that this world would eat you alive? I seem to recall telling you all this and more, girl. And you, my _insufferable_ child, insisted you _wanted _this!"

Hermione fell to her knees and instead of her father, when she looked up she saw a bushy haired woman. She looked like an older and much prettier version of Hermione.

"Mum?" she squeaked.

"Unfortunately," the woman hissed. "I had so many dreams of raising you with your father. I remember being so happy when I was pregnant. But then I gave birth and you came out all wrong. I wasn't losing my twenties to a sick, pathetic, spineless, hideous, insufferable child! With how you turned out, I can honestly say I have never been happier with a decision of mine. I just feel simply awful for your poor father."

"He didn't want me?" she gulped.

"Oh, darling," she cooed lifting her chin. "Who could ever possibly want you?"

"Hiro likes me," she whispered.

"Wait till he sees you!" the woman sang.

Hermione woke with a jolt in a tangle of red and gold sheets. It was still the first night. None of that happened...yet. True, her imaginary mother wasn't going to magically appear in a broom cupboard, but the rest of it she could see playing out as the dream unfolded. She needed no more evidence than the train. _Social Suicide..._ She wasn't going to sleep. She got dressed and head into the common room. She reviewed her notes and practiced what spells she could before she finally heard the rooster's crow followed by the chime of a bell.

"Are you sure you're not Filch's child?" George asked with yawn as he, Fred and Lee Jordan entered the common room.

"I certainly hope not," she forced a giggle and threw her journal in her bag. "Why?"

"Because you never sleep!" Fred finished.

"I guess I'm just a morning person," she shrugged.

"I'm telling you, Harry," Ron began enthusiastically. "We'll-"

"Look, George, it's our ickle Won!"

"Mum did ask us to take care of him," George mused slipping an arm around him.

"Naturally," Fred said. "That should mean we stay on his tail all year to make sure he follows our perfect influence."

"Perfect influence?" Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked.

"Need I remind you," Lee chimed in. "_You _taught _them _to count cards!"

"Great!" Percy Weasley huffed straightening his glasses. "I see you've wasted no time in corrupting our brother and the other first years."

"Corrupting first years?" Fred asked innocently. "Would we do that, George?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Fred!"

"Did you really teach them to count cards?" Ron whispered as the lot of them left the porthole.

"Perhaps," she smirked.

"You have _no _idea how much pocket money I've lost over the summer because of that?"

"I'll teach you too," she whispered. "I'll throw in dice and coin flips as well."

"Won't do any good," Ron whispered back. "They have trick coins and dice."

"I'll think of something."

Ron rolled his eyes and groaned. Hermione began to feel like there was no winning with him. Perhaps she should give up, there were other first years, and them simply being the first people to express concern over her well-being didn't mean she had to chase after them like a hopeless puppy. Besides, after everything she read about James Potter, she doubted her father would take her befriending Harry lightly.

The six of them sat together and Neville joined opposite Hermione. She watched the boys joke with each other silently, her eyes drifting to the silent, pink faced Neville. That was her ticket, the boy was as awkward and ill-equipped as she was. Finally, someone her father couldn't scare away. He needed her as much as she needed him. She just hoped she could be a good friend to him.

"Everything okay, Neville?" she asked between the twin's horror stories.

"Erm-yeah," he fumbled with his hands. "I-erm-I found Trevor last night."

"Neville, that's great!" Hermione said.

"Erm, he found his way back in my robe pocket..." Neville admitted.

_Do you have any idea how much I berated myself for failing you? Honestly! _But that wouldn't have been helpful to say. She swallowed her anger and smiled gently at him. "The important thing is you found him."

"Your frog, right?" Ron asked.

"Toad!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Know-it-all! I don't see why you're offended. It's Neville's pet."

"I'm not," she replied sweetly. "I just think it would behove you to know the difference between two distinct species _before_ you have to start identifying pieces of their anatomy."

Ron's ears turned pink and she felt a wave of shame come over her with the muffled laughter from Lee,Fred and George. She thought it would be liberating given how he treated her last night, but she just felt pity.

"I'm just being a bitch, Ron," Hermione sighed. "I am quite the insufferable know-it-all. So, you're right about that."

"Was that supposed to be an apology?" Ron scoffed.

"I'm sorry," she said turning her face down.

The seven of them picked at their food in silence until McGonagall came around with the timetables for the Gryffindors. Hermione eagerly took the opportunity to read through the bloody thing and ignore the six boys surrounding her. She was _so _bad at this. Maybe it was the eleven years locked in a dungeon, but she couldn't say that.

"Any particular classes you're looking forward to?" Hermione asked the group at large.

"Fred, Lee and I have divination this morning," George said.

"Kooky Trewlaney is supposed to be hilarious," Fred whispered. "We're making bets on who she predicts dies this class."

"What?" Neville gulped. "Do students die every year?"

"No, mate," Lee offered. "Trelawney just likes to make dramatic predictions every year."

"Oliver says they're always wrong!" Fred added.

"And always entertaining!" George laughed.

_Did you guys honestly choose an elective simply to laugh at the teacher?_ Hermione thought but bit her tongue. She had done enough damage.

"Bet I know what class _you're _looking forward too," Ron said around his food pointing a fork at Hermione.

"Transfiguration," she said. "I certainly hope there wasn't money on that bet."

"You-" Ron began.

"I'm full. See you in class."

"But you didn't even-" Harry started but she tuned him out before he finished.

_I am _not _apologizing to that prat! _Hermione made her way to the library to study until first bell. He hadn't even met her father and had already seemed to have decided that she deserved to be hated because of things he _heard_. She could hardly believe he and the twins were raised by the same people. Though she supposed Percy was drastically different from them again.

Hermione sat near the back of the classroom between Neville and a boy named Dean Thomas, whose doodles put her isolation art-works to shame. Dean was muggle-raised so he hadn't received the memo to stay far away from her like the others seemed to. Though he hadn't engaged in idle chit-chat until Hermione started.

"That's very good," she observed.

"Thanks," he shrugged. "Until I got my letter, my mum was convinced I would be a cartoonist."

"_The Daily Prophet _uses editorials and other cartoons. You could always do that," she offered. "You can already put one of the cartoonists to shame."

Hermione wondered if she went too far when she saw his brown cheeks flush pink. "Gee, thanks," he said awkwardly running a hand through his black curls.

"G-g-good m-m-morning,cl-class!" Quirrell stammered at the front of the room.

"Good morning, professor," half the class recited.

Quirrell read from the register asking all who were present to indicate with a hand so he could learn their names and one interesting fact about them. Hermione was never once so happy for her father's last name. S. She was near the bottom of the list and could use everyone else's answers to inform hers. This would be easy. She could blend in.

"T-Terrance B-Boot?"

"Here!" exclaimed a boy. "I go by Terry and I can speak three languages."

"L-Lavender Br-Brown?"

"Here!" she beamed. "I have two rabbits at home!"

The list ran through like that. Some of her classmates had trouble conjuring something interesting, others had something at the tip of their tongue. Hermione was surprised when Harry's name was called and he stammered looking for something. The best he could come up with was that he "erm-guess he can play the flute" which was met by underwhelmed groans. Despite the disaster at breakfast, which was admittedly Ron's fault, she felt a wave of pity again. He just wanted to disappear, and she could relate to it.

"H-Hermione Sn-" Quirrell paused. "Oh, d-d-dear, P-Proffessor Sn-Snape's little g-girl? Wh-Why l-last I s-s-saw you, you w-w-were th-the s-s-size -o-of a k-kitten!"

The class erupted into laughter, echoing off the stone walls. Hermione put her head in her arms on her desk trying to run maths equations through her head, potions ingredients, spells and principles, alchemical properties. Hell, skipping chants, anything to drown out the sound of their laughter. Could she leave? If she did that she could find a hiding spot. She wished she _was _the size of a kitten. Then she could dart out of there unnoticed.

"O-oh d-d-dear, h-how f-fool-foolish o-of m-me," Quirrell stammered. "S-sorry, d-dear. L-let's f-f-focus o-on th-the cl-class, p-p-please."

"Neville!" Hermione hissed in his ear. "I will do your homework for a whole month if you wipe this from my memory!"

This _was _going to be a long seven years.

* * *

It was so quiet now. Severus told himself that it was only the first week and he would grow used to it. He liked the quiet...but as he set up the needed supplies for the fifth-year Slytherin/Gryffindor class he realised how much he missed Hermione's comments. By now she would have made one or two gripes about how he just had to keep everything on the higher shelves. He would have some recollection from when she was a toddler to blame, she would have some cheeky retort and probably roll her eyes.

At least he had Saturdays. Was it selfish of him to expect that? Perhaps, but it did save her from getting into whatever mischief the Weasley twins and Jordan would likely drag her into. And getting further involved with Potter and Weasley,or taking on the role of surrogate for a boy twice her size with Longbottom. Why couldn't she have been sorted into Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? His life-_her _life would have been so much easier if she had been.

"Stop antagonizing Miss George, Wood!" he called from over his desk not ten minutes after class started. "That'll be ten points!"

The blond girl swiftly returned to taking her notes after scowling at the tall messy haired boy. Perhaps Oliver Wood thought being captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team gave him some sort of superiority over his peers. He would have to disillusion the boy quickly.

Percy Weasley shifted his glasses and gingerly rose his hand, probably to defend his classmate.

"It's not up for debate, Weasley!" he shouted. "I should hope you have better control of your brothers than you do your classmates. Or does that sort of treatment of girls pass for acceptable in Gryffindor?"

True, the girl may have started it, she was abrasive, but Wood's words had no place in his classroom.

"No, sir," Percy Weasley said.

"Then don't justify the behaviour," he said. "That'll be five more points."

The fourth year Gryffindors collectively groaned at Percy Weasley. Treatment he noted the quidditch captain didn't take despite losing the group more points. He wondered if teenagers cared about anything more than such shallow victories and-he had to think about something else, anything else.

"He called the girl _what_?" McGonagall coughed out her water.

"So you see why I had to be harsh on the first week," he said.

"I do," McGonagall sighed."A bunch of first and third years aren't going to behave that way. I'm certain you can take your eyes off them for a second."

Day four and Hermione spent every damn meal squeezed between the Weasley twins opposite Jordan with Potter, Longbottom and the younger Weasley boy nearby. How many times now had he seen Hermione shrink or outright leave a meal after an exchange between her and the youngest Weasley or Potter? Damn boys.

"And you were afraid she wouldn't get along," Dumbledore chuckled. "It seems she found where she belongs quite well."

_She belongs there like a squirrel in a cat's mouth, _"Yes, I'm simply thrilled that my only daughter has decided to surround herself with older boys at the tender age of eleven."

"They're jus' boys, Professor," Hagrid asked leaning from the other side of McGonagall. "Wha's the wors' tha' could possibly happen?"

Severus shot a withering gaze his way, and not to his surprise, the rest of the table seemed to follow suit. The worst that could possibly happen? Just boys? Did he forget being one himself? There was an assortment of damage they could do, and some he had not even thought about until this morning. He opened his mouth to scold Hagrid, but Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him and spoke instead.

"Perhaps, we shouldn't be asking him to imagine the worst," he said gently.

"S-such a cl-clever g-girl," Quirrell added from his other side. "Sh-she'll be f-f-fine."

"_You _of all people don't get a say here!" he snapped. "Not after that stunt you pulled first day. Students were meowing at her for two days!"

"Severus!" McGonagall hissed. "He didn't mean anything by it. If I were you I'd be more concerned about how your behaviour will affect her social life than his."

"Meaning?"

"Enough you two," Dumbledore said. "We're supposed to be setting an example. How are you finding classes this year, Professor Sprout?"

He should have been happy for the subject change, but he didn't care for the abrupt dismissal of Quirrell's behaviour. Perhaps he was on to Severus's surveillance during August and wanted to give him a reason to slip up. No one else seemed to find his behaviour suspicious and alienating Hermione might have served to turn his attention off Quirrell. Or perhaps Quirrell was just being antagonistic. But Severus only needed to look at the man's eyes to see he was hiding something.

There was nothing he could do about it for now. He would just have to keep an eye on him. He followed Quirrell's gaze to the seven Gryffindors, he might have delighted in tormenting his daughter, but it seemed Potter was the one who caught his attention. _What do you want with that boy?_

Did he miss another of those ill-fated exchanges? As his gaze followed Quirrell's to Potter, he saw Hermione say something to one of the twins, shrug and rise to leave. Those little idiots, he wished he could hear what they said to her during meals. He glanced at Quirrell from his peripheries and determined that he couldn't harm the boy while Dumbledore stood at the head of the table. He watched a group of sixth year Ravenclaws leave and figured that could be enough of a buffer.

"I'm afraid I have to leave," he excused himself.

Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Did he forget how slippery she could be when she wanted to evade detection? Did he even have a plan? It wasn't as if he could really offer comfort without drawing attention to her. And he had demanded names and details of those who were cruel to her in the past to no avail. So his instinct to seek retribution on her behalf wasn't exactly flawless.

It was fine, he just wanted to spot her and ensure she was fine. That worked within the terms of their agreement.

_"I'm begging you, Dad," she pleaded. "No one else's parents will be hovering over them. I'll update you Saturdays like you asked, but please, just pretend I don't exist through the week!"_

_"How the hell did I manage to raise such an insufferable child?!" he groaned. "Fine, I'll take your request under advisement. The instant you step out of line negotiations are off the table. Understood?"_

He could have handled that better...but his daughter wanted nothing to do with him. How the hell was he supposed to take it? Befriending Potter should have been crossing a line, she knew what a nightmare his father was. Was this open defiance or pure naivete?

_No one else's parents will be hovering over_ them...Other parents _did _get involved in their children's school life. He had enough hate mail from parents over the years to prove it. Perhaps he should show her that and tell her to be grateful for the level of distance he _did _allow her.

_That little idiot is going to burn out before the first term ends,_ he thought as he found Hermione pouring over a volume in the library while surreptitiously taking notes. He wondered if this was where she disappeared to after her fights with Potter and Weasley. She had plenty of work to pour herself into now, something she inherited from her birth parents he was still certain.

Outside the desire to waste away over a collection of books, Hermione seemed fine. He was satisfied _for now_, but he would to her about this nonsense Saturday morning. He watched her from behind the bookcase for just a little while longer. It seemed it was only a short while ago he was teaching her how to read, it was somehow surreal seeing her pour over her school work, despite years of coming home to see her doing the same.

A sudden pang came over him as he found himself wishing for her childhood back. _She's not exactly grown yet...I can't change the past, love, but I can at least ensure your childhood is better than mine was._

* * *

"I will do your homework for the term if you break my legs," Hermione offered the lot at lunch.

"You do know we're two years above you, right, Hermione?" Fred pointed out.

"If we wanted your father to kill us it'd be over something hilarious," George said. "Like switching his nose with an actual hook."

"Or place a bottle of shampoo on his desk," Fred suggested.

"You won't injure me _and _you're insulting my father?" Hermione scoffed. "I need better friends."

"We might be the best you got, kitten," Lee shrugged.

"You're _hilarious, _Lee," Hermione murmured. "I hope you don't spend all your 'A' material on me before the first Quidditch match."

"Kitten's got bite," George observed.

"What about you, Ron?" Hermione asked leaning over to see him and Harry. "Live your fantasy, kill me!"

"After showing off in every other class I don't see why you want to skip out on the one _fun _class," Ron groaned.

"My feet belong firmly on the ground," she told him.

"You're not excited at all about flight?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry," she groaned. "I'm begging classmates to maim me because I'm clearly thrilled at the prospect. Honestly!"

"And I'm innocently asking you about it because I'm clearly thrilled at the prospect of being snapped at. Honestly, Hermione!" he mimicked her tone. "I was just trying to be friendly."

Hermione turned her gaze to her plate."Sorry," she whispered.

"I don't know why you bother with that one, mate," Ron said.

"Erm, Hermione," Fred started.

"Remember when you asked us to telling you when you were being a bitch?" George said.

"Well..." Fred said.

Hermione shrank in her seat. "I get it! I get it! I'm a bitch!"

"Your words, not ours," George offered.

"I know."

The owl post came and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. They could focus on that for the next half-hour. She watched others open care packages and letters from friends and family and scrambled to read over George's shoulder. The four had spent the past week reading through the news together. Finally, front page was something important. And frightening.

"Looks like there was a break in at Gringotts last month," Lee announced.

"Really?" Ron said craning his neck.

"But Hagrid said that was the safest place on the planet second to Hogwarts," Harry noted.

"It is," Hermione told him, reading the article over Lee's shoulder. "Whoever did it _really _wanted whatever was in volt 317. They would have gotten it too if it wasn't transferred to an undisclosed location back in August."

"317!" Harry gasped. "But that's..." he lowered his voice and spoke to Ron.

Hermione strained her hearing, but Dean Thomas's voice cut her off.

"Whoa, cool!"

"My Gran gave it to me," Neville said holding a glass orb filled with misty smoke. "She knows I'm always forgetting things."

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"It's a remembrall," Hermione leaned over and spoke gently. "I've read about those. The smoke turns scarlet if you've forgotten something. It's neat."

As if on bloody cue, the smoke turned red.

"Now I need to figure out what it is I've forgotten." Neville gave a nervous chuckle.

Everyone who heard him laughed but Harry and Hermione. She didn't imagine they were trying to be cruel, not like that first class, but it still had the same effect on Neville that the laughter had on Hermione back then. Okay, the timing was funny, but it was still unfair.

A raven flew through the window and landed in front of Hermione. _Who would be writing me now?_

"Is that a raven?" Ron asked. "Who's sending you death omens?"

"I don't think so!" Hermione rolled her eyes petting the raven's head after taking the letter. "Ravens are used instead of owls in East Asia and-oh!"

Hiro wrote her back! She thought he would quit again after her silence, but she felt her heart race. Until she remembered that her father would also surely know how a raven came to her. _I might as well have one good thing today. _

_Hermi-chan!_

The nickname sent a flush to her cheeks. She was teasing him when she wrote that. Chan, familiarity. Maybe he _did _like her. Sure, they'd never meet, but she could have this.

"Are you blushing?" George teased.

"Did our kitten get a love letter?" Fred pinched her cheek.

"No, Fred," Hermione said folding the letter. She'd have to read it later. "It's a kill order. Your brother was right, the raven _was _a death omen. I wouldn't drink that tea if I were you."

Three o'clock came and Hermione prepared herself for hell as the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins filed into an open courtyard. She didn't want to be yet another Gryffindor with a pathological hatred for Slytherins, but the six lined up in opposite all seemed awful. Pansy Parkinson stood beside a sharp-faced blond boy who acted like he owned the school. Draco Malfoy. Her father hadn't given her much in the way of social advice, but he did tell her that the Malfoys were a very powerful family and that her best move was to stay out of his way.

Something she was very happy to do, she was happy to pretend the entitled prat didn't exist. Though Harry and Ron didn't seem to get the memo. They seemed to antagonise each other on every turn.

When instructed to command their brooms, Hermione wanted to die. All hers did was roll over. Harry's landed firmly in his grasp as if he had done this hundreds of times. Even Ron's rose further than hers, true, his broom landed firmly on his nose, but he still did better. She bit back her laughter, and turned to see Malfoy's broom faltering._ Ha!Turn and_ cough! she thought that to soon as Malfoy's broom was the second to reach his hand.

Hermione knew flight lessons would be a disaster, but she had no idea how much of a disaster. Neville's broom decided to take off in his broom like a panicked horse. Perhaps it felt his fear, but whatever the reason he found himself high above them, whipping around with no sense of purpose.

_Do something, idiot, if you're clever you can save him! _But she couldn't make herself move. She stood watching him, her breath frozen in her lungs. _  
_

Neville crashed into the stone walls and found himself hanging from the collar of his robes until he hit the grass with a sickening snap.

_Go to him!_ As she got her feet to move Madam Hooch was already his side.

Hooch took him to the hospital with the dire warning that a single broom in the air would promptly earn the rider's expulsion. Not a threat the oh-so-cool Draco Malfoy took seriously. Hermione became acutely aware of how much she loathed the school's untouchables.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Parvarti Patil said. "Give it back."

"I didn't know you _also _had a thing for fat cry babies, Patil!" Pansy Parkinson cackled. "Looks like you have competition, Hermione!"

"Jesus Christ!" Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped her head. _We're on a first name basis now? What happened to ugly, stupid bitch?_ "Come up with some new material, _Pansy_. Give the damn thing to us, Malfoy, and all of this will be forgotten."

"I wonder which of our fathers I should explain your threat to, kitten," Malfoy mused. "Though I think you look more like a squirrel with those teeth and that hair."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Ron and Harry repeated Pavarti's sentiment.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry said holding out his hand.

"If you want it, Potter, come and get it!"

"Harry, wait!" Hermione hissed. "Let the moron get himself expelled. Trust me, you'll be doing the whole damn school a favour. Don't give anyone a reason to go after you. Please!"

"Come off it!" he hissed back. "You just want someone who stands out more than you to stick around."

"Fine, get yourself expelled!"

That was exactly what she thought he did when McGonagall of all people marched into the courtyard demanding Harry come with her. Silence pervaded the courtyard as they walked out inside in silence, Harry with his head hung. Hermione's stomach churned. She mulled over what she could have done to prevent this. Maybe if she'd...no, there was nothing she could do. Now, they got to listen to Malfoy brag about getting "the famous Harry Potter" expelled.

"Fuck!" Hermione whispered.

To her surprise Ron had said the exact same thing with her.

"You two should watch your language," Hooch said from behind them. "Where's Mr. Potter?"

"Probably won't be something you have to worry about for long!" Malfoy sang.

Ron clenched his fist and glared at Malfoy. Hermione wasn't sure what he was about to do, but she grabbed his arm before he had the chance to launch an attack. "Don't!" she hissed in his ear. "His father has the power to make your life hell as well as your entire family."

"But-"

"I'll come up with something, I promise."

"I'll hold you to it!" Ron hissed back.

"Oh, Hermione," Pansy mimicked concern. "Taking up with his brother doesn't mean if you have to take up with him too. Poor thing."

Hermione released his hand and mimicked Pansy's tone. "Oh, I was just telling Ron that I so hope Draco Malfoy isn't in too, too much trouble for showing off his flying while Madam Hooch was gone. Poor Pansy, I'm sure you could do better than taking up with that show-off."

"Is it true that you were up in the air, Mr. Malfoy?"

"It _is _true!" Pavarti cried.

She was joined by the rest of the Gryffindors corroborating the story. Malfoy stole Neville's remembrall, Harry pursued him only to get it back. The Slytherins denied it. Hooch took ten points from both houses and threatened to put each and every one of them in a week's detention if they said another word.

"Hermione," Ron whispered as they left the courtyard.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't know Pansy Parkinson would pull that-"

"Just tell me you're not _really _taking up with Fred or George," his ears turned pink once more.

_I'm eleven! I'm not taking up with anyone! _"It's none of your damn business!" she hissed. "I have to go visit Neville."

Hermione waited with Fred, George, a newly discharged Neville and Lee in the common room as they did homework. She looked up from her own homework to help Neville with his here and there. Between sentences she glanced up to see Ron pacing the length of the common room like an agitated cat. She wanted to say something to comfort him, or assure him she was as nervous about Harry as he was. But Ron couldn't stand her. And she wasn't sure she blamed him.

"Erm-Ron?" she squeaked approaching him.

"What could you possibly want?" he snapped. "You told my brothers you wanted to be told when you were being a bitch? Well, there hasn't been a time you haven't been one since I met you!"

Everyone in the common room stared at him mouths agape. Luckily it was only those six at the time. No one who would be likely to spread rumours about their fight. Something she was grateful for when tears sprang to her eyes. _Shit!_

"Nothing," she shrank back. "It doesn't matter. Sorry."

Hermione capped her inkwell and started stuffing her homework into her bag.

"Hermione," Fred began.

"You don't have to go because Ron's a git," George finished.

"_George!"_ Ron snapped. "I'm your brother!"

"And still a git!" George said.

"Apologize, Ron," Fred ordered.

"Leave him alone, guys," Hermione choked. "It's not him, I'm just not feeling well. It's probably just something I ate, I'll see you tomorrow," she ran to the stairs to the girl's dormitory.

"Hermione!" Lee called.

She turned back, praying the tears stayed in her eyes and were hidden enough by her hair. "For what it's worth, McGonagall has always been a good judge of character. She'll know Harry was just trying to help," she turned to the table with the twins, Lee and Neville. "Don't order people to apologize to me. I can take care of myself."

Hermione waited on the staircase with her head poking out from the spiral to see when Harry returned. Ron continued pacing like an agitated animal and the others ignored him. They were so close before, did Hermione drive a wedge between them? She hadn't meant to, she just-_No, sod on him! Ron has been treating you like rubbish since you had the audacity to _help _him on the train. I do _not _feel sorry for that prat! What if he's right though...?_ Hermione placed her face in her hands and let the tears fall. She was hiding and it was late, if she were quiet, no one would know.

"Harry!" the lot of them shouted.

Hermione quickly dried her eyes with her sleeves and peaked beyond the wall.

"You're not expelled, mate?" Ron exclaimed.

"No," Harry said, his face bright with disbelief. "Actually quite the opposite. McGonagall had me training with Oliver Wood. I guess I'm the new Gryffindor Seeker."

"That's fantastic, Harry!" Lee shouted.

"People are sleeping, you git!" Fred teased.

"You'll be playing on the same team as me and Fred," George smirked.

"We're beaters!"

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

"We make sure you don't get thrown off your broom!" George explained.

"Or fracture all your bones!" Fred added.

"This is amazing!" Ron threw an arm around his shoulders. "You'll be the youngest Seeker in-in-"

"A century, McGonnagal told me," Harry said, almost sheepishly.

_Seeker? If literally anyone else had gone for tried to get Neville's remembrall they would have been expelled or at least put in detention. You got rewarded for it? No, _Hermione stopped herself. _He had no idea this would happen, he's still a good person, even with special treatment. He didn't want any of this. So why am I so angry about it?_

_Because I'm my father's daughter...Maybe Ron was right about me._

Hermione made sure her eyes were firmly covered and kept her head down as she ascended the stairs pretending to read her copy of _Standard Book of Spells Grade One. _Once she got into the first-year girl's dorm she changed into her nightdress behind her bed curtains and tried to remember the light spell.

_"Lumos," _she whispered. She then sprawled out and read Hiro's letter.

_Hermi-chan!_

_Are you excited about starting school? Or perhaps you did by time this reaches you. I haven't heard from you for sometime. Is everything okay? Kaori's been teasing me about you. Mamma too. We're back to boarding in September too, it should be easier to get letters to each other. Well, between all the work we'll have to do! I did read your book over August Break and I loved it! I'm already on the second volume (In Japanese though!). My favourite subject is Transfiguration thus far. I've gotten good at it. Mochi is not happy I'm back to classes, you should see how she whines!  
_

_Did you like the manga? What's your favourite class? Do you have any pets? I can't wait to here back from you!_

_Until Later,_

_Hiro-kun!_

_P.S. There's a Japanese copy to help you with Kanji and Hirigana!_

Hermione reread the short letter. _Hiro-kun! _Hermione's understanding of Japanese customs were out of sorts, but she wanted to feel like the "kun" suffix was like "chan". Maybe a little less intimate...or is it only for boys? She didn't have too much to go off of, but was it possible he liked her as much as she liked him? So few letters, but everyone of them seemed so sweet and honest. Hiro Yamato had to be the single sweetest person on the planet, and she could not be convinced otherwise.

_It's nothing more than a series of letters. You have no idea what he's like! _Despite telling herself that, she fell asleep clutching the letter to her chest. _I can keep the fantasy alive for a while yet._

* * *

"I couldn't help but notice you received a raven yesterday at lunch," Severus mentioned as Hermione closed the door behind her.

"About that," Hermione sighed. "I-"

"I had planned on telling you that I didn't see the harm in the correspondence with the Yamato boy, after all," he said leaning against his desk. "You know, Hermione, it's quite funny. I had been racking my brain trying to figure out if you had done a single courageous thing in your life when you were sorted. Then it occurred to me that there is a very thin line between courage and stupidity, and you, my dear, crossed it. How long?"

"Sorry, sir?"

"Did I stutter, little girl?" he said. "how long have you been writing this boy behind my back?"

"I-erm-" she bit her lip and shrank against the wall. She wrung her hands together and stared at the ground.

"Are you planing on telling me sometime this millennium, young lady? Or should I start stock-piling food?"

"Since July!" she squeaked. "But there were no exchanges in August!"

"July?!" he scoffed. "You've been lying to me for two months?!"

Hermione now looked as if she was trying to melt into the wall. He might have felt bad for the girl had she not deliberately disobeyed him. It wasn't like Severus _liked _that his child was terrified of him. He much preferred it when he was a source of comfort, but she did this to herself.

"Omission isn't lying," Hermione said straightening her spine. "If it was, then I would have every right to be upset with you."

"Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape!" he shouted. "I will _not _be tolerating any of your cheek after what you've done!"

"Yessir," she said folding her arms over her chest.

_Where the hell is this coming from? _He couldn't help but think of the tiny girl who hung on his every word and scrambled to spend time with him. Hermione was cheeky, a bit of a know-it-all, but also helpful, obedient and caring. Until now she had never engaged in an outward act of defiance. _That I know of. _

A moment of silence passed between them and he noticed Hermione's expression and posture soften. She now titled her head and placed a hand on her cheek. She gently shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she said. "I know I should have talked to you about it when I considered it. You had a reason for forbidding it, just like you had a reason to change your mind. I should have respected that."

How was she always the first to back down, but he always felt like he lost? Hermione could be fuming or in tears and moments later collect herself enough to speak with a calm and patient tone. Though he could hear the faltering in her voice, and at the moment he could see how upset she was behind the composed sympathetic mask. He didn't doubt she was sorry, nor did he doubt she gave a damn about his feelings, but he could see the stubborn rage that she was trying so hard to bury. _You never did like admitting when you were angry. That might be my fault, I can admit that._

"The damage is already done," he sighed. "And I _did _reconsider my position on the matter. You may continue to contact the boy."

"Really?" Hermione nearly squealed clasping her hands together. "Thank you! I swear this will _not _happen again!"

"I know it won't," he replied coolly. "Because I know you would simply _loathe _spending every afternoon and evening in detention until June. Of course, followed by the summer confined to your bedroom."

"Yessir," she nodded.

"That being said," he continued. "You still broke the rules. I expect you here every Friday after your classes end for the rest of the month."

"Yessir," she said.

"And I am writing to the boy's parents and the headmaster of Mahoukatoro. I won't be having you continue to correspond with a boy I know nothing about."

Hermione bit her lower lip and shifted her eyes to the lower right. He waited for the inevitable 'why' that came after that expression, but to his surprise she straightened her posture and nodded with a prompt "Yessir."

"While we are on the subject of boys," he began._ Calm down,_ he told himself as he beckoned her forward. _These past two weeks have been hell for her. _"I can't say I'm thrilled about the ones you have seen fit to surround yourself with."

"The Weasley twins, Lee Jordan and Neville Longbottom?" Hermione asked with a laugh. "They're completely _harmless, _Dad. And probably the kindest people I have met in my life."

"And had you any sustained interactions with someone other than myself and my colleagues before this year you might be a more reliable judge of 'kind'," he explained. "As it stands now, you've given that title to three chronic miscreants and a boy whom I'm certain will take advantage of your naivete to avoid doing any work himself. Please tell me you are not so damn naive that you would extend that honour to Potter and the youngest Weasley?"

"With all due respect, sir," Hermione started.

_I never like what follows those words...why are you doing this, Hermione?_

"Harry and Ron are nice. I know that there was that hiccup in flight lessons, but they're not terribly different than the rest of the boys. I know Harry's father was a bit of a bully (_You don't know the half of it, love, _he thought bitterly.), but he's nothing like that."

"A hiccup in flight lessons is a student injuring themselves or vomiting," he groaned. "Deliberately disobeying a teacher's orders, showing-off, demanding you cover for him and being rewarded with a coveted position on the Quidditch team isn't a hiccup. It's a power-move, something you'd recognize if you weren't so bloody desperate to make everyone like you!"

"Dad, he had _no_ idea that's what would happen. He was just trying to help Neville-" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Demanded we cover for him? Whatever version you got of the story was clearly altered. Even if he wanted to-which I doubt he did-he wouldn't have had time to demand _anything _of us before Professor McGonagall called him. I don't know where you got your information from, but evidently something morphed between tellings. I was there, I can tell you everything you want to know."

"The version I heard hadn't the chance to be morphed organically," he stated. "And what reason would Draco Malfoy have to lie to me?" _Even if I don't entirely believe his version myself. _

"Of course it was him!" Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose with an exasperated sigh. "I don't know why he would bother telling you anything when he knew he would get away with it."

"Professor McGonagall gave me Potter's version of events and suggested I speak to the boy about acceptable behaviours myself. That was when he gave me his version of the story. Which is much more in line with Potter's character than the version I was originally given."

Hermione buried her face in her hands and grumbled a short phrase in a language he didn't understand before sighing and establishing eye-contact. "Any chance you would like the account of a neutral third-party?"

Severus examined Hermione, so frustrated and tired, as if she hadn't a moment to rest in weeks. She probably hadn't, only two weeks, and she already had dark rings circling her eyes and her usually warm olive skin paled. Something he hadn't noticed before, not with her penchant for burying her face in her hands, her hair or finding any other reason to avoid eye-contact with others. How long would he worry about her growing into a woman she had no memory of? Maybe she wasn't obsessing over school work and more concerned with the social aspects of her new normal, but that didn't ease his worries.

"I'm unsure how neutral your account would truly be," he said crossing his arms. "Two weeks and I feel like those boys have already wormed their way into your little head."

"You don't trust me?" she swallowed, clearly hurt.

"Do I trust the girl who spent two months writing a boy behind my back, only admitted to her offence once caught and followed her admission by saying 'omission isn't lying?'" he mused. "Now why would I not trust someone like that?"

"I deserved that." Hermione looked down, he swore he could feel the shame radiating from her in waves.

He sighed and placed a hand on the top of her head. "I simply do not understand why you are defending these boys after they've treated you so poorly, love."

"Excuse me, sir?" Hermione asked with what seemed to be genuine confusion.

"Potter, and the Weasleys, particularly the youngest one," he explained. "Your interactions seem less than ideal."

"Fred and George have been nothing but sweet-erm-to me at least," Hermione narrowed her eyes again. "You haven't met Harry or Ron, why are you so sure you have an understanding of what they're like? And why do you think I'm being mistreated?"

"Hmm, let's see," he mused tapping his lower lip with his free hand dramatically. "During the sorting feast the youngest Weasley said something to make you bury your face, you've left every meal thus far early following some comment by Potter or Weasley, the boy grabbed your arm to whisper something to you as you were leaving flight, and the two seem to be hissing instructions or mouthing obscene things to you in the corridors. Am I missing anything?"

Hermione buried her face in her hands again and groaned. "The way I'm reacting now is exactly how I reacted when Ron asked why we look so different. I'll hand it to him it was better than the girl who asked if I was Asian or African a few years back." She lifted her head. "I'm leaving meals because I'm terrified of falling behind. True, it's only been two weeks, but the instant I let myself slip I just know I'll fail everything. The comments you see from them? It's normally a comment on how early it is in the term. I'm used to being considered mental at this point. The whispered or mouthed things in the corridors? Normally me indicating the school's untouchables before one of them does something stupid like letting themselves be provoked. Not always effectively, I'm afraid. Am _I _missing anything?"

"The cheek, Hermione Elizabeth," he said. "I can do without it. Unless you're looking to add Wednesdays and Thursdays to your punishment."

"Yessir," she sighed.

_Not the truth in its entirety, _he thought _but I suppose this is the best I'll get from her. _"Tell me, Hermione," he said tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you adjusting?"

The next week dragged on and Severus still adjusted poorly. Early mornings were empty, afternoons and evenings far too quiet. Yet it all seemed so unreal. He buried himself in his work when he wasn't keeping an eye glued to Quirrell. He knew the man was up to something, how often had he disappeared to mutter something to himself? Severus wondered if he knew about the stone. Dumbledore swore he didn't, and even asked if he was still bearing a grudge about the kitten comment or the job. He remembered why he was hesitant to come forward with his suspicions after that. Even if it was true that he was still upset that Quirrell was chosen over him, he wouldn't try to turn others against him, he had other ways of dealing with such things. The same could be said of the kitten comment, seeing students meow at Hermione or beckon her with "here, kitty, kitty" did fill him with rage, but it didn't make him suspicious of Quirrell. Quirrell's behaviour made Severus suspicious. His eyes were glued on Potter, he seemed very curious about the third floor, and though he couldn't put his finger on why, the man's stutter didn't seem sincere.

Friday commenced as usual, he prepared for his classes, went to breakfast and split his attention between Quirrell, Potter and Hermione. Like clockwork, morning post came and a raven landed in front of Hermione (Was she getting letters once a week now?). He had to start on those letters to the boy's parents and headmaster. He'd have to ask Hermione how proficient they were in English. The Weasley twins nudged her from either side and Lee Jordan joined in on the teasing. The Longbottom boy asked her something, she shook her head, Weasley also asked her something, she rolled her eyes, picked up her book and mail. This time she laughed with a light shrug. She waved a dismissive hand and left beside a second-year Ravenclaw girl, the two seeming two giggle at something.

His attention returned to the boys, each of them jovial as they greedily took to their meals. Ten years of eating only with Hermione, he couldn't help but contrast the way she gingerly picked at her food to the way the boys around her ate. Was it a girl thing perhaps? _No, it's a 'your daughter is a nervous wreck' thing, and you are entirely to blame! _He pushed it from his mind and tried not to let Quirrell see his eyes shift to him. The man ate in silence listening to Flitwick drone on about a novel series he was reading. Quirrell feigned attention until, but his eyes did dart to the Potter boy every now and then. Severus was content to observe and listen until he heard the name of the novel.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But I couldn't help but overhear. I find it absolutely fascinating that you and my eleven-year-old have the same favourite novel series."

"Oh, ha ha!" Flitwick said. "I'm allowed to enjoy things, Severus. I'm hardly the only adult waiting eagerly for the fifth book."

"I'll tell you what I told Hermione," he teased. "Don't get your hopes up. It's been four years. I think the author has given up on the series."

"Has it really been that long?"

Severus suddenly was ambushed by the memory of reading the first book to a five-year-old Hermione. He'd confiscated it from a student and forgot to give it back to the boy before the last day of classes. After he and Hermione had more or less memorized every word in Dumbledore's old volume of _Beetle and the Bard, _he gave her the old beat up copy of _Son of Hermes. _ They took turns reading chapters, Hermione required help with some words getting embarrassed every time she mispronounced something or didn't know the definition of a word. Even with the frustration, she still beamed with excitement every night before crawling into his lap with the abused paperback in her hands. When was the last time he saw her light up like that?

_When I told her she could continue exchanging letters with the Yamato boy...__Eleven-years-old and I've already been replaced with a boy. _That wasn't fair, she never met the boy, and at her age she wasn't plotting to run off with some boy. The worrying about the political state, about her becoming ill again, about some unseen enemy in the shadows. He understood all of that, but it was simply stupid that he was so worried about being replaced.

"I will not have foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class!" he said going into his usual first year spiel. He seemed to have their attention during it, save Potter who seemed to be composing a note to Weasley.

He ran down the register mentally as per usual and swallowed upon seeing Hermione's name. He looked up to see her sitting near the back between Potter and Longbottom. He thought it was real when he saw her board the train, again he thought he'd get it through his head when he saw her being sorted, but seeing her in his classroom, it just didn't seem right. Some part of him expected her to be little forever. Hell, he still saw a four-year-old when he looked at her. He pushed the idea from his mind and began reading from the register aloud.

"Mr. Harry Potter," he smirked as he came to his name.

He rattled off questions and the boy shrank saying "I don't know, sir," to each one. It was clear at that point the only thing the boy received from his mother were his eyes. He wondered briefly if she would be disappointed that he couldn't answer the questions nor read between the lines of what he was saying. _No, she would simply be upset at my behaviour. Like his father, I'm certain to her and everyone else the boy could do no wrong. He'll not receive such treatment from me. _He turned to a once again shrinking Hermione treating her hair like an invisibility cloak. _Once you know him you won't disapprove of my behaviour, I'm certain. But if you're so eager to be upset with me then..._

"Care to help the great Harry Potter, my dear?" he asked her.

He regretted drawing attention to her as soon as the hushed sniggers escaped from her classmates. Hermione simply couldn't make herself small enough, her face nearly touching her desk, and he was certain that underneath it she had been reopening the scars on the back of her hands. He imagined she was once again biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He mentally cursed her birth-parents again and was about to dismiss the question when she began mumbling, answering all his questions correctly and in the order in which he asked. After which she all but slammed her head against her desk. At this point she was anywhere but the classroom.

"For the vast majority of you who aren't close enough to hear what she said..." he repeated her answers at a volume that could register in human hearing and turned back to Potter. "During the course of the summer that child painted the mural in the entrance hall, saw to inventory of several professors, renewed a decade's worth of vital documents, assisted in the archives and learned Japanese (_albeit behind my back_). Yet she still found the time to pull a book off a shelf from time to time. What, pray tell, kept you from summer reading? Clearly, you don't understand the work required to succeed in this school goes beyond the cultivation of fools' worship. If you bothered to pay attention you might have been able to answer a few simple questions. "

Potter looked at Hermione beside him, whose face was still firmly planted on her desk refusing to acknowledge anything that happened around her. He then re-established eye-contact with him, a familiar flame flashed in his eyes. "Clearly, you don't understand that most of us might have only a few weeks to do our readings and would have prioritised refreshing material for classes that have tests coming up. And if _you _bothered to pay attention you might have been able to notice that Hermione didn't want to answer 'a few simple questions'. No one else seemed interested in drawing attention to themselves either."

"And yet you seem plenty contented to draw attention to yourself," he sneered. "That'll be ten points from Gryffindor for Potter's cheek."

That had the opposite effect of his intent. He had thought that might earn Potter scorn and Hermione some pity from her classmates. Instead the fools looked on him with adoration and Hermione seemed to get her wish to be invisible. Which quickly changed when he told the lot to partner up for the practical portion of the class. He hoovered around but chose not to intervene.

"If you're so capable I'm sure you can do it all yourself!" Weasley hissed at Hermione when she offered.

She rolled her eyes and turned to Longbottom who had already paired himself with Seamus Finnegan.

_Kindest people you've ever met, love? You and I are going to have to have a very long conversation about these boys and what is actually acceptable behaviour! _

"Dean!" she whispered.

Dean Thomas looked around for a better option until giving a resigned nod. Watching the pair work, it didn't exactly seem like Thomas was forcing her to do all the work, but Hermione had at so many points said "It's okay, I got it!" or something of the like with a weak smile. Was she trying to impress him? No, she wanted the boy and perhaps the class to see that she would do whatever they required. Hermione's damn near pathological people pleasing seemed to be her attempts from separating herself from Severus in their eyes. No, she simply wanted their approval and would do anything for it. It had nothing to do with him or how he raised her. He was _not _looking forward to when she started dating if that behaviour didn't change.

_It'll be a very long conversation, indeed._

Severus had been paying attention to the wrong pair. While Hermione worked deftly, smiling and nodding at whatever Thomas said when he felt the mood to speak with her, Longbottom and Finnegan had concocted an acidic yellow liquid that twisted the iron cauldron on the desk into something muggles called "modern art" and melted the top layer of the stone floor and the soles of the students shoes. Longbottom shrank before a scowling Finnegan and Severus knew exactly whose fault this was.

"IDIOT BOY!"

The disaster of a class ended and the idiots gleefully charged from his classroom like prisoners after a pardon. Hermione even managed to slip away in the mass before he could ask her to stay. He took the most direct route to the staircase and squeezed himself next to a wall. If the little shits were going to give her a hard time he wanted to know exactly what was being said.

"No wonder you're so..." Weasley scoffed but failed to finish his sentence. "I almost feel bad for you!"

"I _do_ feel bad for you," Longbottom said.

"I know you lot are very angry," Hermione said to Potter Weasley and Longbottom in a small voice. "I had _no _idea he was going to do that! I know he hated Harry's dad, but that was-and Neville-oh god-the things he said to you-" she sighed. "I'm so, so bloody sorry! He's not normally so-erm- I simply don't know what got in to him!"

"Fred and George told me this is normal," Weasley groaned. "You can't tell me you didn't expect this, or are you that stupid?"

"Not to this extent," her voice became small again. "I should go, but I am _really sorry._"

"Wait, Hermione" Potter said taking her arm. "Snape hated my dad? Why?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said shrinking under his gaze. "I-erm-I don't know."

_Oh, no, Daddy, these boys are just so sweet, you should see how they grab and corner me when I try to make my escape! _he thought bitterly. He saw enough, he was going to step in when Potter released her.

"Sorry, Hermione," Potter said.

_Damn, Potter, you almost sound sincere. Lay a hand on her again and everything your father did to me will seem kind._

"You just want to know something about the parents you never met," Hermione forced a sympathetic smile. "I know, it can be all consuming. But please, you three, I'm _begging _ you not to judge him to harshly based on today. He's not a bad person, just-" she sighed again. "Please, just give him a chance. And I'm really, _really _sorry about class."

Hermione disappeared up the stairs and the boys lingered.

"I simply don't know what got into him!" Weasley squeaked. "Merlin's saggy bullocks! You'd think _she_ was _his_ parent!"

Potter laughed. "Now that all the Gryffindors in our year will be avoiding her, maybe you should be nicer to her?"

"_I_ should nicer to _her_?" Weasley scoffed. "Maybe if she considered apologizing about the things she said instead of apologizing for her monster of a father, I'd consider it."

"You don't think he's mean to her like that too do you?" Longbottom asked in a small voice.

"No way," Weasley grumbled. "Not after bragging about all her accomplishments over the summer. I'm certain Daddy's precious kitten is treated like a little princess! That's the only way she could defend him like that. Think she spends a second defending us to him (_Not that you idiots deserve it, but_ yes!)? Oh, and if she knew Snape hated your dad so much, why didn't she warn you? She had plenty of bloody time! I honestly have no clue what Fred and George see in her!"

"I don't know," Potter mused. "He might have been bragging, but Hermione wanted to sink into the floor. It doesn't matter we're going to be late."

_He's not a bad person, he just- She couldn't even finish that sentence, _Severus didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of him, but his own daughter couldn't find _something_? No, those boys had her cornered and nervous. It still stung. What was worse were the impassioned pleas after he knowingly dragged her into his attempts to hurt Potter. She knew what he was doing, even if those idiots thought he was bragging. _You'd think _she _was _his _parent!_ Hermione did defend him in ways he'd seen mothers defend their children in letters. Was Weasley on to something? Did Hermione somehow feel responsible for him? It certainly sounded that way. Maybe she did think he was as cruel as they did? That might explain why she gravitated toward such cruel individuals. He'd have to suss out how to navigate it another Friday evening. For now he had other matters to attend to.


	8. B1Chapter7: Duels,Dogs and Dangers OhMy!

_Hiro-kun!_

_You've been at his much longer than I have. How do you run circles between your family and friends? Do they hate each other? I don't know, these boys I'm hanging around aren't exactly my friends, but they acknowledge my existence from time to time. The only problem is my father can't stand them. Any tricks you've picked up over the time I can steal, Yamato-Sensei?_

_Other than that, life is okay. I've been working very hard to keep up with my classes. So far I've done well in them. Month one down and I'm ready to cocoon for the next nine! I know how pathetic that sounds._

_Enough of my depressing life! On to you!_

_I'm sorry Kaori is such a control freak about the school paper. I know you were looking forward to it. Maybe join another club? Too bad, I know how you were looking forward to it. Talk to her about your ideas for a political comic and don't stop until she listens! Trust me, I'm very annoying so this is advice I can give. Talk to her and the others, if you can ally the others to your side, you'll be great! Miyuki sounds like your best angle where she's co-president and your sister's best friend. Turn on that endearing charm! If she's human she won't be able to resist it! I promise! You better write back telling me Kaori was out-voted!_

_The picture of you and your sister was sweet. I don't have access to a camera, so I'll just let you imagine my appearance. Think like a bushy tailed cat and a rabid squirrel somehow produced an offspring. You'll be close. Maybe glue doe-eyes on to it, people seem to like my eyes. Anyway, I drew a picture of you lot in the style of _Koneko Mahou Shoujo! _and I hope you like it. _

_Until later,_

_Hermione _

_I have complete faith in you, Hiro-kun!_

* * *

_Hermi-chan!_

_I did exactly as you said and you are now corresponding with Mahou Mercury's first cartoonist! I got Miyuki-chan to my side and Onii-chan was given no option! I've sent the original cartoon to you. No English cheat sheets though, or you'll never learn! fufu! Thank you so much, Hermi-chan!_

_That being said, your Japanese is better now. By the time summer comes around you'll be like I am with English! _

_ Sofu-san doesn't really involve himself with our friends outside of summer, and even then, he let's us mostly handle things ourselves unless we ask. If your father hates those boys so much, maybe he won't be a problem? Also, boys? Should I be jealous? fufu! I'm joking, most of my friends are girls. Mostly because I follow my sister around too much. She's inherited Otosan's confidence and ability. I'll be in Kaori-sama's shadow until she graduates, but then I'll probably be alone. That was dark! You said earlier you felt like you could tell me anything, well...I feel the same way about you. I can tell you __anything!_

_On that note, a doe-eyed cat-squirrel hybrid sounds adorable! Hanging around people just because they acknowledge your existence sounds sad. Maybe you should follow your own advice? Join a club and talk to people until they like you. I like you...others must too!_

_Love from,_

_Hiro-kun xoxo_

_P.S_

_I loved the picture. _

* * *

_Hiro-kun!_

_Your letters are the highlight of my week! Congratulations! I knew you could do it. I loved the cartoon, also, your minister sounds like a total dolt! Not allowing magic learning avenues for blind and deaf people? My blood boils, I hope the cartoon gets the idiot's attention! I knew Miyuki couldn't resist you. Also, Kaori-sama? Your sister will slaughter you if she finds out you call her that!_

_Speaking of ignorance, I'm not sure if you know this, but xo is put in English letters for kisses! I'll forgive you this time, Hiro-kun!_

_I'm sorry that you feel like you've been in Kaori's shadow. I know we've only sent letters, but you seem so bright and funny, I'm certain if you tried you could make it on your own. Not saying you shouldn't hang with your sister and Miyuki. I think it's nice that you're so close. Honestly I'm a bit jealous, I wish I had an older sister at times. Either way, there's certainly more to you than just being the younger brother of Mahoukatoro's top witch and the headmaster's grandson! You're clever and funny and sweet, and I simply can't imagine why someone wouldn't want to be friends with you. _

_Love,_

_Hermi-chan!_

* * *

"I feel like your eyes sparkle every bloody time that raven comes!" Fred teased.

"Our kitten's got a boyfriend, Fred!" George teased putting an arm around her.

"Are you really teasing me about Hiro Yamato after last night?" Hermione blinked innocently.

For the first time since they met George's ears turned pink and Fred, Lee, Oliver and Angelina roared around her.

"Wait," Angelina stopped. "What happened last night?"

Hermione instantly regretted it. George really liked Angelina, and teasing him about it in front of her? That was some cruel shit her father would pull. George would never tell Hermione anything again. And she deserved it. _Stupid piece of shit!_

"I made the mistake of telling him some sensitive information," she covered. "He's just embarrassed that the great mischief maker George Weasley can't keep one little girl's confidence."

"George!" Angelina laughed. "Hermione, let this be a lesson learnt early. _Never _trust boys."

"Hey!" Lee said. "We're not all so bad."

Oliver Wood rolled his eyes. "You could always sit with Alicia and Katie again. Since we're so evil."

"And leave that poor creature to your devices?" she laughed.

Translation, Angelina liked sitting with them. She hoped it meant she liked George specifically, but she wasn't going to project her stupid girlish fantasies on to them. Hermione knew better.

"By Merlin," Hermione groaned. "What do you expect those arses want?"

Malfoy sauntered over to their table flanked by his oversized cronies Crabbe and Goyle. They stopped by Harry and Ron and Hermione slipped out from between the twins to get a listen.

"Harry knows exactly what a wizard's duel is!" Ron snapped. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

_Don't take the bait, Ron..._

Harry clearly didn't know what a duel was, but Malfoy didn't pick up on the confusion, instead he was clearly caught off guard by Ron's question of a second. Malfoy hadn't chosen one, which Hermione imagined mean the boy had no intention of actually duelling. _What is your game, Malfoy?_

"Meet us in the trophy hall at midnight!" he sneered after announcing Goyle to Crabbe's dismay.

"Did you really call Pansy a stupid, snivelling cow?" Hermione said from behind Malfoy. "One of the Ravenclaw girls said you did and she's simply beside herself."

"I said no such thing," he sneered again. "And I don't see why you care."

"I don't really either," she shrugged. "But girls are complicated, we hate each other's guts, and yet we seek retribution for each other. Go apologize to her before I demonstrate exactly how girls seek retribution!"

"Are you threatening me again?" he hissed.

"Apologize or I'll start crying" she whispered. "Who's side do you think my father will take when I do?"

That worked better than she imagined it would. He chased after Pansy, who was beautifully leaving the Great Hall at just that moment. That left Hermione alone with the two idiots.

"Wow," Harry gasped. "Remind me not to mess with you."

"It's a trap," she told them in a low voice. "Don't do it."

"What?" Ron scoffed as well. "Did that raven warn you of another poisoning?"

"I couldn't help but overhear-"

"Bet you could," Ron interrupted.

She rolled her eyes. "The duel is a trap. Malfoy clearly didn't have a second picked. I bet he's trying to get you idiots expelled for being caught at night."

"And if it is real?" Ron challenged.

"Then the idiot gets himself in trouble and the school loses an insufferable prat."

"I'd get used to Malfoy if I were you," Ron laughed. "The way Snape gushes over him, I expect he'll be looking to get you two married."

"For the love of-" she groaned. "I give up! I've been trying to help because I felt bad for you idiots, but go, have fun getting yourselves expelled!"

Hermione turned to leave and saw Cho Chang leaving with Marrieta. She ran up beside Cho clasping her books to her chest with an easy laugh, hoping it looked like she left those two to catch up with the girls.

"Sorry," she said under her breath pretending to laugh. "Just pretend to laugh again and I'll sod off once we're out the doors."

"Have you thought of _actually _making female friends instead of lying to the Professor?" Cho asked with an easy shrug and fake giggle. "Maybe in your year?"

"That would imply she's able to!" Marrietta giggled.

The three pretend giggled as they left the doors and Hermione was ready to leave when Pansy and Malfoy stopped her.

"Which Ravenclaw girl claimed Draco called me a cow?" Pansy sneered. "Because those hags lied to you."

"I don't know all their names," Hermione said stepping between Cho and Pansy. "It was in the toilets I heard it. I think she was a third or fourth year. I think her exact words were 'That Malfoy brat is such a prick. I heard him talking to his cronies about the Parkinson girl, calling her a stupid, snivelling cow. I'm sure the poor thing is just beside herself. Is it just me or do they get meaner younger as the years go on?' Sound like anyone in particular? Because Cho, Marrietta and I are just working on a group project in DADA and it wasn't either of them."

"They're a year above us!" Malfoy yelled.

"And Quirrell's an arse who thinks growing up in the school means I had advantages others didn't. So he has me doing second-year couse-work as well." _How many more will you bring into your lies?_ "I'll catch up with you lot later," she said to the girls than mouthed _this is only going to get worse, go. Sorry!_

They left and Hermione was left alone with the four Slytherins. She gulped and racked her brain for an excuse to go before Pansy linked her arm in Hermione's. "Why don't you boys go? Girl talk."

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle all exchanged confused looks before doing exactly as she requested. How did she have such power over them? And could Hermione ever develop something like that? She once asked to be left alone and Fred literally picked her up over his shoulder with a "the only person I've met tinier than you is Ginny!".

"Let's go to the lake!" she instructed, all but dragging Hermione.

"Did you really threaten to cry to your father if Draco didn't apologize to me?" Pansy asked, still holding Hermione's arm hostage.

"Erm, yeah," she said sheepishly.

A silence came over them only interrupted by birds and other students wondering around the grass. Hermione wondered what Pansy Parkinson was about to do. Would she push her in to the lake. If the squid ate her it would be one less problem for her to worry about. No, Pansy Parkinson was a jerk, but not evil. She hoped. _It's not as if the giant squid persists on a diet of eleven-year-old girls._

"I have a proposal for you," Pansy whispered.

What was Pansy about to black mail her with? What would she have her do? Hermione imagined an assortment of things from getting her to weaponize her father's hatred of Harry to get him expelled to something as minor as Hermione doing her homework for the year. From the outside, they looked like two little girls walking arm in arm around a still lake on a sunny day, but Hermione knew this was war.

_Just push me in the lake now_.

"I want you to partner with me in potions next week. Draco left me high and dry and made me partner with Crabbe. If Longbottom hadn't so spectacularly screwed up his potion, I know we would have failed." Pansy groaned. "I know you're trying to trick Professor Snape to thinking you have made friends with girls. I promise I can be a hell of a lot more convincing than those cows."

"They're not cows," she groaned. "But I'll do it."

"Oh, and, Hermione," Pansy pulled her closer. "Back out on me and _I'll _be the one crying to your father about how simply horribly I've seen the Weasley twins treating you."

"We'll be potions besties!" Hermione hissed back.

* * *

"By Merlin," Severus commented as Hermione started cleaning her work station. "I don't think I've met a more fastidious child in my life."

Beside the work station Hermione had been wiping down for the third time were precisely lined jars of preserved dragonroot, in rows of three, each jar wiped clean till the glass shone. This was the same child he used to get after for painting on walls, but she'd always been...particular. The quirk was endearing when she didn't shut down because of it. She had been unusually quiet all evening. Most of his attempts to coax her into speaking were met with a single sentence. But she seemed to take the bait this time.

"I'm not going to say something like 'hark who's talking' (_You just did!_), nor am I going to point out how peculiarities are a product of one's upbringing," Hermione teased. "But I will suggest you look at your tools."

"So cheeky," he sighed. "I wish I could blame those little idiots you surround yourself with, but this was a 'peculiarity' of yours before you met them."

"At least I keep things interesting?" she offered.

"Interesting is certainly a word we could use," he placed a hand on her head.

"So," Hermione listed the items off her paper. "Anything else, sir?"

"No, love," he said taking her list before he remembered he couldn't read it; it seemed she wrote everything in Japanese these days. "I think we're all set, and with a whole hour to spend before curfew! I do wonder how you'll spend it."

"Oh, I'll probably just-hey!" she said. "Are you calling me dull? I guess I'll just have to find something stupid to do," she sighed. "You reckon I can get in on the latest schemes of any of 'those little idiots I surround myself with'?"

"If your plan was to make me feel guilty for calling them that," he mussed her hair. "Then I should tell you that you going about it the wrong way."

"I didn't figure it would work," she shrugged. "But a girl's gotta try, right?"

"A girl's got to try making other friends," he teased. "I'll let you go, remember our arrangement, you're to be here tomorrow morning."

"Yessir," Hermione nodded.

"Oh, and Hermione?" he called just as she was about to leave.

"Yes, sir?" she stopped and turned to face him.

"I know you want to handle whatever it is that is bothering you on your own," he placed his hand on her head again. "But I want you to know (_Dear god, why is this so hard? Talk to your daughter, you stupid git..._) that if you need to talk I am here."

"I know, Dad," Hermione nodded with a smile. "But I'll be..." she was interrupted by a chiming bell. "Crap!"

"Language!" he snapped.

"Right, sorry," she said before speaking at a speed only panic could induce. "Hour before curfew, that should have reminded me! Sorry, I promised someone I'd help a friend with homework. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Dad. Have a good night, love you."

She kissed his cheek and ran off into the distance.

_Slow down, love, _he thought before going to mark his most recent batch of homework.

* * *

"I don't want to wake the other girls," Hermione told Fred and George when they teased her for her translating of _Koneko Mahou Shoujo!_

"Think she's tiny because she doesn't sleep?" Fred sighed.

"In all of our nights in the castle we know Snape doesn't sleep, maybe it's genetic?" George laughed.

"Oh, hardy-har-har," Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you old folk are tired, go to bed. I am fine here translating my 'weird Japanese cat girl comic'."

"Did she just call us old folk, Fred?" George gasped.

"Our little Hermione?" Fred gave a dramatic sigh. "No!"

"It's not my fault you're ancient," Hermione sang. "Damn, two years and I won't be able to stay up past eleven? I'll have to make good with what's left of my youth now!"

"Fine," Fred said pinching her cheek. "Us _old folk _will actually be able to enjoy our Saturday."

"My father has me Saturdays, so there'll be no risk of that," she rolled her eyes. "How I envy you lot."

"And here I thought we had custody over the weekends," George sighed.

"You only get meal times and Monday through Thursday evenings, sorry, boys!"

"I think you and Angelina should renegotiate," Fred elbowed George, who blushed furiously.

"Fred!" Hermione hissed looking around the, thankfully, empty common room.

"I wouldn't say that if she were within earshot, Hermione," Fred said. "Just like I wouldn't tease you about Hiro in front of anyone but George."

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "We're just friends, and a million kilometres away! I'll never even meet him."

"You never know. I hear there are cultural exchanges in participating schools," George shrugged.

"Mahoukatoro loves to do exchanges with Ivermony and Beaux Batons," Fred added.

"Or so Charlie told us when he told Mum about his chance to go to Brazil," George finished. "So you might just meet Hiro!"

"Oh, sod off, you miserable lot!" Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to sound stern.

"Ouch!" Fred gasped.

"Alright, fellow old man," George elbowed Fred. "Let's leave the young one with her weird Japanese cat-girl comic."

After an episode of laughter from the three of them Fred and George did that and Hermione dug out some a small square of parchment that teachers wrote their notes on. She had never done this before, and she hoped the standardized sheets weren't enchanted to respond differently to others. She knew each of the staff's handwriting intimately. Or many of them anyway, and she had every confidence her ability to replicate them. She twirled her inkless quill in her fingers as she thought about whose writing to use. Her father's? Fat chance anyone would buy it. What about McGonagall? No, she might be consulted and given a chance to deny it. Dumbledore then? No, he wouldn't be writing it either. Filch? Hell no, he would be the one they need the note for. _Shit! Shit! Shit! _Who would be the most likely to be believable, but not be asked to verify...?

The idea came to Hermione and she began composing her note, pleased nothing went awry when ink touched parchment.

_"You!"_ Ron said. "Go back to bed!"

"We're going, Hermione," Harry hissed. "You're not stopping us."

"I know there's no stopping you," Hermione sighed. "Which is why you idiots need this," she held up the note.

"'_Please excuse Mr. Harry J. Potter, Ronald B. Weasley, and Hermione E.L. Snape for travel to and from the library after hours. As punishment for arguing loudly they have been assigned to re-organizing the archives on the evening of the third of October 1991. Signed, Madam T. Pince." _Harry read. "How-how did you get her to agree to write this?"

"She didn't," Hermione said. "You two should change out of your dressing gowns if anyone is going to b-"

"You didn't- erm- enchant Pince?" Ron asked, freckled face registering somewhere between scared and impressed. "Did you?"

"Merlin, Ron!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I forged her writing, naturally. Years of replicating documents in others' hand-writing finally have a use."

"And this won't be detected?" Harry asked cautiously.

"I've been forging signatures for ages," she half-lied. "You''ll be fine."

"Erm," Harry said. "Thanks, Hermione."

"I can't help but notice _you're _included in the note," Ron groaned. "Why?"

"Ron!" Harry whispered as if Hermione couldn't hear. "She's helping us, can we forget her father's a-"

"It's nothing personal," Hermione interrupted. "I'm _not _watching Malfoy gloat when he gets you expelled. And I want to see his face when you're still here. Plus, Fred and George won't talk to me again if something happens to Ickle Won."

"I can take care of myself!" Ron snapped.

"Can you?" Hermione scoffed.

"Shut up, both of you!" Harry hissed. "Your note will be worthless if you wake the whole castle, and none of us want Malfoy gloating when we don't show. So shut up."

"You're right, mate," Ron sighed. "She's just so-"

"Standing right in front of you," Hermione muttered through gritted teeth.

"So?" Ron growled.

"Ron and I will get dressed," Harry whispered. "We'll meet you in a bit."

Hermione met back up with boys once they were changed and they left the common room armed with the note and the story. They were on their way, they got lost. If they were caught by McGonnagal,Flitwick, or Sprout she decided she would start crying. Those three always seemed to pity her and she was fine weaponizing it. If it was Filch, he cared enough to chase them down, but not enough to contest a note. Anyone else was a gamble, they were better off just not getting caught. They-

"Ouch!" cried a voice.

"What the-" Hermione snapped out of her thoughts.

"Neville?" Harry asked kneeling next to the curled up boy on the floor.

_That's why he never showed for me to help him, _Hermione thought kneeling to his other side. _I thought he changed his mind so he could keep avoiding me._

Neville looked up over his chubby hands with tears in his blue eyes.

"Oh, Neville," Hermione gasped. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I should pay more attention. Are you okay?"

Neville nodded with a whimper and Hermione fought the urge to place an arm around his shoulders. Neville had been avoiding Hermione since their first potions lesson. He'd probably recoil from her efforts to comfort him. _Neville's hurt! Stop thinking of yourself, you miserable cow!_

"Did you forget the password again?" she asked gently.

Harry darted a glare her way as if to say _you don't need to remind him!_ He turned back to Neville helping him up. "It's okay. We've all forgotten loads of times!"

"All the time!" Hermione agreed too eagerly.

"Great," Ron said. "Hermione, why don't you take Neville back, and Harry and I-"

"I don't think that'll work, Ron," Harry said pointing at the empty portrait.

"This is just bloody brilliant!" Ron and Hermione groaned at the same time.

"What the hell are we supposed to do now!" Hermione failed to control the shrillness of her tone. "There's only three of us in the note!"

"Note?" Neville asked.

"It's, erm, a _long _story," Hermione forced a laugh.

"Why don't you tell him it while Harry and I-"

"She's coming, Ron," Harry groaned. "Sorry, Neville. We're going to be late!"

"What about Filch?" Hermione asked. "We can't just leave him here to be caught! Nev-"

"Yes, we can," Ron said. "He'll explain he forgot the password and he'll be fine."

"He's coming with us," Hermione tried mimicking the cold, warning tone her father used to instil terror in others as she walked up to him.

It failed miserably when she barely hit the tall boy's chest and she was glaring up at him rather than looming over him. _Note to self, you are not very intimidating! _

"Not if we're using your note, we're not!" Ron snarled. "And if we're not using your note than why bother having you come with us!"

"You, Ronald Weasley, are the single most insufferable git I've ever had the displeasure of meeting!" Hermione hissed. "You said I've been a bloody bitch since you've first met me on the train? Well I guess like recognize like!"

"You miserable chit!" Ron snapped. "You had better hope I don't remember that Bogey curse Quirrell taught us in class!"

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him if her fate lied in him remembering a single spell then she would be safe until they graduated but she barely got a sound in when Harry snapped.

"Shut up!" he then turned to Neville. "Let's go."

"Take off your shoes," Hermione whispered taking off her own and placing them in her bag. "We'll be quieter."

The four of them made their way to the trophy hall, carefully moving along the walls. Hermione offered to go first around each corner and signal when it was okay. She wasn't as familiar with these parts of the castle, or familiar at all, but years of sneaking around made it easier for her to gauge the distance and safety. Surprisingly, they reached the trophy hall without incident. Not to her surprise they waited for ages and neither Malfoy nor Goyle could be bothered showing.

"See," Hermione said fixing her legs after allowing Neville to attempt a jelly-legs jinx. "I knew you could do it."

"Erm," Neville said helping her up. "Thanks."

"Seriously, Neville," Hermione smiled. "You could be great. You just need to stop thinking about everything else. Trust me, over-thinking every other aspect of your life only gets in the way."

"Oh, is that why you live in the library?" Ron asked. "I thought it was because you were a 'social retard'."

"At least I'm just a social retard and not just a retard!"

"Can we stop using that word?" Neville asked in a small voice. "I don't think it's-"

"I can't believe you!" Ron snapped. "Just because I have more in my life than books doesn't mean I'm stupid!"

"No, that doesn't," Hermione admitted. "But taking Malfoy's _obvious _bait does! Let's not forget I told you so!"

"I told you so! Ha!" Ron scoffed. "That's a bloody brilliant impression of your father!"

"You think so?" Hermione forced a laugh. "Because since I've met you you've always done a bloody brilliant Moaning Myrtle!"

"Moaning...is that a character in one of those stupid comics you've been translating?"

"You really are a moron, aren't you?" Hermione snapped.

"You're both being stupid! Now will you two please shut up?!" Harry seethed. "Someone will hear."

"I think someone has," Neville whispered pointing to the skeletal cat sniffing around the entrance of the hall.

"Run!" Harry hissed.

The four of them took off as fast as they could. The lost track of where they were running, and Hermione cursed them for not taking off their shoes as she'd suggested. Every now and then Hermione would pull them behind a corner and they would melt until they were satisfied they weren't being followed and would continue down the new corridor.

"ICKLE FIRSTIES OUT OF BED!" Peeves shouted from down the corridor.

"Over here!" Harry called to a door in a whisper. "Never mind, it's locked."

"Do none of you read?" Hermione scoffed drawing her wand. "Honestly! _Alohamora!_ Go!"

The four of them loaded into the room trying not to slam the door behind them. They would have been better off with Filch...

A giant three-headed dog- _cerebus-_ slept, or was sleeping, before them. It rose on four thick, powerful legs, and bared its-their-massive fangs at them, snarling viscously before barking and snapping centimetres from them. Hermione turned her head down. This was how she died, she was terrified, but she also felt herself shut down. She stared at the massive feet on the floor before her and noticed a trapdoor. _What are you guarding? _she wondered, not that it mattered...

They all fell back against the door, falling on top of on another before scrambling to their feet and slamming the door shut behind them. The ran as fast as they could neglecting the cloak and dagger routine they had attempted before in favour of speed. Hermione wanted to snap at them, to say 'I told you so,' but it could wait till they were safe in Gryffindor tower. They arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, all out of breath.

"Where have you four-" she began.

Harry shouted the password three times out of breath and demanded she open up. Which she did after a cheeky response about how no one cares about paintings.

The four of them collapsed on the other side of the portrait hole to catch their breath. Ron's fiery demeanour returned to him, much to Hermione's dismay.

"What were they thinking having a thing like that in a school? We could have had our heads ripped off!"

"It's guarding something," Hermione explained.

"You knew that thing was there?!" Ron snarled. "That little titbit might have been useful before we all nearly got killed!"

"For the love of-" Hermione spat. "I had no clue the thing was there before tonight, you complete arse! Even if I had known it's not like you'd listen to me! Lest we forget I told you stupid gits that it was a bloody trap! _I told you so!_ But no, what the hell could I possibly-"

"You know-it-all bitch! How do you know it's guarding something then?" Ron scoffed. "Enlighten us since you're so bloody clever, go on then!"

"You don't use your eyes do you?!" Hermione snapped. "It was standing on a trapdoor."

Hermione and Ron exchanged more venom. How she could have so little gratitude for someone who saved her life, she didn't know, but she couldn't stop herself. Nor could he. Harry and Neville watched on in disbelief they could continue fighting after everything that happened. Hermione was all but certain they were destined to rip each other's throats out before the year ended. She told them she was going to bed before either of them "came up with another clever idea to get them all killed or expelled" to a hardy "good riddance" from Ron.

"I can't believe her!" Ron cried. "She _wanted _to come, but you'd think we'd dragged her!"

He was right. Hermione could have very well forged the note and left herself out of it. All they had to say was that they got lost in the maze-like corridors and Filch would have let them go with a grumble. Though Neville being locked out and the Fat Lady taking off might have still put a hitch in their plans. Why did she have to include herself? They hated her. She couldn't just keep waiting around for that long gone spark of empathy to reignite.

* * *

"SorryI'mlateIoverslept!"

Hermione spoke at such a speed Severus swore the words would be incomprehensible if she had spoken only a fraction faster.

"Late night causing mischief?" he asked letting her in.

"That friend I promised to help with homework never showed," Hermione grumbled. "Though I think I've probably translated the entire series Hiro recommended now. And I'm done homework for the month. So, yay?"

"I see," he said placing his hand on her head. _Another half-truth._

He thought of pressing the issue of the night before, it wasn't a coincidence that four first years were spotted out last night and Hermione was exhausted. However, as she stood before him, he saw more than exhaustion on her face and movements. It was as if someone had simply drained all the life out of her. _I suppose I don't see the harm in keeping it to myself. For now..._

"How was your week?" she asked.

"Dreadfully boring, I'm afraid," he said. "I'm far more interested in yours."

Hermione to his surprise didn't roll her eyes. "I'll let you know the instant something exciting happens," she scoffed.

"Now, why do I doubt that?" he mused ushering her to a chair.

"Because you trust me about as far as you can throw me, naturally," Hermione shrugged.

"That's nonsense, love," he waved his hand dismissively. "I imagine I could throw you much further."

"Wow," Hermione sighed. "And here I thought you trusted me just a little bit."

"In my defence," he sat across from her. "I can't imagine there are many who couldn't throw you far."

"So the original comment was calling me untrustworthy or small?"

"How is it you normally answer to questions like that again?" he pretended pensiveness. "Oh! Yes."

"You win," Hermione threw up her hands in false surrender. "That _is_ annoying."

"Yet I imagine you'll continue?"

"If I don't annoy you thoroughly am I really fulfilling my duties as your daughter?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose not," he sighed. "What are you translating?"

"You'll laugh," Hermione said narrowing her eyes. "All you need to now is that we both agreed to read each other's favourite series in its original language than translating them for our friends."

"I take it you chose _Son of Hermes?_"

"Naturally," she shrugged. "And I'll have you know _both _he and his older sister like it. So vindication!"

"Oh," Severus groaned. "I feel just awful for the Mahoukatoro professors if that series catches on there like it has here."

"Wait, it was popular here?" that returned some colour to her face.

"Have you any idea how often each of us had turned down proposals for _Son of Hermes _clubs?" he said. "Had you been two years older than all you would have had to do to make friends is read the most recent instalment in view of others."

"Had I known that two years ago I might have tried it on one of the Saturday afternoons I was allowed out," Hermione grumbled. "I had no clue they were so popular."

"And I still have no clue why," he poked her forehead. "I so hope you are as baffled as I am when you're grown."

"Don't you think it's a wee bit cruel to wish I'm baffled by my choices during childhood?"

"I'll disillusion you now, little girl," he said. "There isn't an adult alive that looks back on their youth without confusion. I just hope your biggest regret is your taste in literature."

"You never talk about your childhood," Hermione mused seriously.

No, he didn't. There was a reason for that. _Why are you asking me this now? _he thought as he stared at the curious child sitting across from him. At school he was eternally the victim of cruel jokes, even at muggle school he had been treated like rubbish. His father was a cruel, ill-tempered man that resorted to violence at the slightest provocation. How many times had he seen his mother cowering beneath a table while he shouted at her? Any vitriol she had stored for his father was redirected at him in acidic tones.

_"You want to play Quidditch?" his mother sneered (he was twelve and was more interested in the potential of social reprieve than the actual sport). "If you're so determined to give yourself brain damage might I suggest you ask your miserable father when he plans on getting a job? Always works for me."_

True, back then he favoured his mother out of pure disgust for his father, and she did have moments of tenderness. Infrequent, and often undercut by her venom, but idiot he was, blamed his muggle father for everything and made a saint of his abrasive mother. As an adult he still recognized his mother was a victim, but he could more easily recognize her faults. Hermione knew nothing of them, and if they were still alive he still would have happily told her they weren't.

Then there was the issue of his one friend. With the exception of a aspiring Death Eaters and couple girls that he had no intention of telling Hermione about, Lily had been the only person who spoke to him at school. The only person who didn't want to hurt him at least. And he pushed her away in the worst way. How could he explain that to her? The answer was he didn't. His past was his, what good could talking to her about any of this possibly do?

"Dad?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said. "I was just wondering how it is I keep seeing you leave the Great Hall with Miss Chang, but I never see the two of you together anywhere else. Curious indeed."

"Just my pathetic attempt to make friends with other girls," she sighed. "The ones in my year don't like me, and neither do the upperclassmen. I admit defeat before doing something astronomically stupid to win their approval."

The dramatic sigh and smirk suggested she was trying to be funny, but he could see the disappointment seeping through false optimism and wit. It was too bad, he had actually hoped the Chang girl would befriend her. Though at this point he'd be happy with anyone that wasn't a boy two years her senior or Potter. She was quiet the rest of the morning as they worked. He wished he had chosen something else to change the subject.

* * *

"I hate this as much as you do," Hermione muttered through gritted teeth.

"I doubt it," Ron grumbled.

"Fuck it," Hermione hissed. "Let's j-"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Ron hissed.

Mother? That son of a bitch! _Maybe he doesn't know? I doubt it. How low will you go?_ Hermione lowered her head to her desk. She regretted the whole duel affair. She wished she had never written herself into the note. Ron would still treat her like the plague, but she might have been spared the glares or the vitriol. At least in class he might have just been quietly scorning her.

"You're doing it wrong!" Hermione snapped after Ron tried to either break his wand or bludgeon the feather with a wind-mill like motion. "It's-" she sighed and tried to calm herself. It'd been three weeks. "Sorry!"

Ron looked at her as though she'd sprouted a second head. How often had she apologized to him? Why was he surprised now?The night of the duel, that had to be it. She had been mean, but it was nothing he didn't deserve. She imagined he would be immensely proud if he every learned that the night after flight lessons his words made her cry. She could see both him and Harry high-fiving at her destruction. Maybe her father _was _right about them...but no one could stand her and she suspected Fred and George pitied her. Even her father called her insufferable. Hermione herself was clearly the problem.

"So, erm," Hermione continued. "Maybe-erm-try to-erm-you want to pronounce the 'gar' like, erm-"

"You sure you're not Quirrell's daughter?" Ron grumbled.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" _Hermione recited with precise movements sending the feather two metres into the air.

"Oh, look everyone!" she heard Flitwick squeak. "Oh, maybe they'll do it again."

Hermione quickly dropped the feather and leaned into Ron's ear. "That! Do that!"she hissed. "It's not that bloody hard."_ Okay, maybe I regret_ that.

"know-it-all!" he hissed back

"Prat!" she seethed. "Now try it before we fail!"

"You can do it again," Ron groaned. "If you're so clever."

Hermione rolled her eyes and complied glaring at him while Flitwick made a bad situation worse by gushing over one successful spell giving her flashbacks to McGonagall's eagerness to show off her _almost_ transformed matchstick. She felt eyes everywhere and was thankful when Seamus set his and Harry's feather aflame. Eyes finally found another thing to fixate on. Except for Ron's.

_Okay, _Hermione told herself as they finally were let out. _Just apologize, he's no saint but, it was still wrong. I don't care if he forgives me. Just apologize and go hide in the library or toilets._

"It's no wonder no one can stand her!" Ron ranted to Harry. "She's a bloody nightmare, honestly! I swear she's actually _worse _than Snape!"

_Worse than my father?_ A lump formed in Hermione's throat. Was she worse? Her apology was meaningless to him, she just wanted to get the hell out of their before she heard anything else. _Shit! _Tears moistened her eyes, but didn't fall and she prayed they were hidden while enough while she hung her head low and tried to move out before anyone noticed her.

"Ow!" Harry said as she bumped into him.

"Shit!" she squeaked. "Sorry!"

"I think she heard you," she heard Harry say.

"So?" Ron scoffed. "I'm sure she's noticed she hasn't got any friends!"

"What about-?"

"I'm sure Fred and George pity her for some stupid reason."

That was it. Nobody wanted her. If she had a living mother, she probably abandoned her, she was nothing more than an inconvenience to her father (no matter what his twisted sense of duty made him say!), no one in her year liked her, and Fred and George...of course they pitied her! What possible reason could they have to want to be anywhere near her? Even Neville hated her...she had no one.

"Are you okay in there?" Pavarti Patil's voice asked after knocking on the cubicle door.

Hermione had decided no one would bother her if she retreated to the toilets to have a sob. How stupid was she? Of course someone would hear her. Something she had thought about, and changed between silence and pretending sick depending on who entered and if she thought they might have heard her crying. That too was stupid, as enough pretending to be sick actually made her sick. Pavarti Patil entered to those beautiful sounds.

"Oh, just something I ate," Hermione lied with an attempt at a fake laugh.

"Should we take you to the hospital wing?" Pavarti, no Padma, asked. "Or bring her here?"

_Shit! You don't even care...why are you..._"I'll live. And Pomfrey's sick of seeing me at this point."

"Are you-" Pavarti said.

"I'm fine!" Hermione snapped. "Sorry, I just-" she sighed. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. You should go enjoy the feast."

"See you tonight then," Pavarti said.

* * *

_Where the hell is Quirrell?_ Severus thought looking at the chair next to him. No one else seemed to be interested in the quivering man's where-abouts. How could such great wizards be so easily swayed by a stutter and a squeaky voice? He could excuse himself and go looking. The bastard was probably hanging around the third-floor corridor. He knew what he was up to, and he couldn't tell a soul. No one would believe him. He had an excuse ready, he was too used to the relative silence of Hallowe'ens with Hermione. It was simply too much commotion for him. No one would question it.

_Shit, where is Hermione? _his stomach churned as he noticed the absence of her bushy brown hair squeezed between the Weasley twins. Quirrell and Hermione were missing. Did he...Quirrell knew Severus was on to his act, but he wouldn't...a lump formed in his throat as he wondered what lengths Quirrell would go to in order to keep Severus off his back. He decided he would go looking. If that man touched a hair on her head he didn't give a damn what the consequences were. _Calm down, she's probably in the library._

The mystery of Quirrell's location was solved when he came barging into the hall screaming, gasping for air in front of Dumbledore. "There's a -troll-troll in dungeons-"

_So that's what you were up to! _He couldn't move now, he had to wait for Dumbledore's instructions.

Severus broke away from the rest of the teachers before they reached the dungeons. He had to decide, the stone or his daughter. That should have been an easy decision, he should have b-lined for the library to drag her away, but he couldn't leave Quirrell with the chance to grab the stone. The damage he could wreak with that, and he suspected he didn't want the bloody thing for himself. If that part of his mind was right, Hermione, and everyone else for that matter was in greater danger if Quirrell succeeded.

_Please let her be safe!_ He pleaded to whatever higher power might hear as he ran to the third floor.

He made the right decision. Quirrell's faint was just an act. He was there, creeping along the wall and diving into the forbidden corridor. _Why did none of us think to enchant that damn lock? I'm bringing that up if I survive this._

"Did you think no one would find you?!" he called.

"S-Severus..." he squeaked backing up into the massive cerebus-Fluffy- as the dog began to bark.

The vicious barking resounded off the walls of the corridor. He dived out of the way of one head while shielding himself from another. _Quirrell, get him away from the trap door! _Severus summoned black tendrils from his wand to grab Quirrell and drag him away from the trap door and throw him from to the other side of the door. He summoned another shield as the middle head lunged for him and he realized his mistake as he heard the door shut behind him.

It occurred to him how out of practice he was when he successfully defended from two of the heads and another came for his right leg. Despite himself he cried out in pain. He wrestled his leg from the left head free shedding blood everywhere as massive fangs raked his flesh. Pushing past the pain, he locked its jaw and shambled out the door gasping for air.

He muttered some words and stopped the worst of the bleeding. Every step sent a stabbing pain up his leg and through his body. His leg would be mangled for the time being, it nearly bit it off. _Fluffy? Not a name I would have picked for the beast. Hagrid thinks every monster is a lap dog!_

"You son of a bitch!" Severus hissed catching up to Quirrell.

"O-oh-oh, th-thank g-g-goodness," he squeaked. "I-I-I th-thought th-that th-thing m-might h-have killed you!"

"Drop the fucking act!" he yelled. "Locking me in with that thing gave it away."

"I-it's been a l-long t-time s-since I've been here, I got l-lost!" he lied unconvincingly.

"Just know I've got my eyes glued to you," he snarled. "You won't so much as take a breath without my knowing! Try to kill me again, I dare you! I'm not letting a coward like you make an orphan of my daughter!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "Th-though had I r-really w-wanted i-it, I-I would t-tell y-you that y-you sh-should b-be m-more w-worried ab-about th-the oth-other w-way around."

"I swear to God, Quirrell!" he grabbed the front of his robes finding his breath and strength enough to slam him against the wall. "If _any_ harm comes to her you will wish for something as merciful as death!"

A loud crashing echoed through the corridors and they both knew the conversation would have to be finished another time.

* * *

Sweet, sweet solitude. After eleven years in damn near isolation, she never thought she would crave it so much. With the feast underway Hermione could cry her heart out, leave and no one would be the wiser. They all hated her, that was just fine. She lived her life alone, she could go another seven years. She could go twenty! It was fine, she would live alone with twelve cats and a veritable library. That's all she needed. Hermione was _done _with people. All they ever did was hurt her. She imagined her father leaping with joy that he was right all along. She could already hear his condescending _I told you so_.

_Collect yourself,_ she told herself after a time (she was unsure just how much). She could go back to Gryffindor tower and sleep until she forgot everything. Evading detection would be simple with everyone preoccupied with the festivities. She left, splashed water on her face and turned to leave when the ground beneath her feet shook. She drew out her wand and caught her breath. It was probably some elaborate hoax.

The source of the sound rampaged into the toilet and Hermione wished it _was_ an elaborate hoax.

_Move, you stupid piece of shit!_ Hermione urged herself as she stared at the massive grey, club wielding troll before her. The blood froze in her veins, and she couldn't raise her wand, she stood paralysed next to the wall, wishing she could melt into it. If she was so good at magic why couldn't she summon it now? She stared into the things yellow eyes as it raised its club. She couldn't even scream! A million thoughts raced through her mind, chief among them was, _I can't die in a toilet! I suppose it doesn't matter..._

She finally summoned enough wherewithal to move and raised her wand with a shout _"Petrif-"_

The club came down by her feet with a loud _crash!_ It missed, she was alive, but the victory was too small, her head spun and the shockwave sent her to the ground with a ringing in her ears, the wand flew out of her hand. She acted, but too late, and now she would die. At least no one would miss her...

"Hermione!" Harry called out from the other end of the room. "Come on! Run!"

He and Ron began throwing peices of plumbing at the troll, yelling at it. The troll still tried to swing for her, and Harry's limbs _did _obey his commands. She watched him leap onto the troll's back and launch his wand up the its nostril. The thing trashed around trying to launch Harry off his shoulders. Hermione watched uselessly in horror as it grabbed his ankles and yanked him off his shoulders.

_Why are you doing this? I'm just...not worth it..._ Hermione thought still unable to move. A realization came upon her. This was all her fault. Harry and Ron were going to die, and it could have all been prevented if she had...this was all happening so fast. She wanted to take back command of her body, find her wand and save Harry, but...

"A little help, guys?" Harry called. "No pressure though!"

_How are you so level headed?_ Hermione thought torn between envy and admiration. She had to do something! Where was her damn wand?

"_Winggardium Leviosa!" _a voice cried and the troll's club lifted far above its head.

Behind the troll she saw the familiar tall, slender figure with flaming red hair. Ron! He did it right, and when it mattered most. He saved their lives. Ron sent the club thudding down on his head and the toilet was shaken again with the force of the massive creature falling to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Are you two okay?" Hermione asked.

Harry got to his feet and pulled his wand from the troll's nose. The boys exchanged words she couldn't quite hear over the ringing in her ears, but they did seem fine. Hermione found her own wand and knelt by the troll, placing her hand on the side of its neck.

"Looks like it's only unconscious," Hermione explained. "Thank you, both of you."

Hermione placed a limb-locker curse on its wrists and ankles. Sure, now that the threat was gone she could recall the wealth of information she'd read over the years. She owed them more than thanks.

Ron said something that again was drown out by the ringing. But he smiled at her with an easy shrug. Was his smile always so easy? Did he know he just took out a troll? A full-grown troll, at eleven! He shouldn't have been so relaxed. Why weren't the two as astounded as she was? _Because they're better than you!_

"I seriously owe you two," she sighed and felt relief from the ringing. "But we should get the hell out of here before-"

"Why on earth aren't you three in your dormitory?" McGonagall's voice called uncharacteristically shrill.

Not long after Quirrell and her father came running into the toilet, both pale and out of breath. She noted her father's eyes darting from the troll, to Harry and Ron and back to her several times. Wait, was he also shooting a glare Quirrell's way?

He knelt on the opposite side of the troll examining it before making eye-contact with her. "Are you harmed?" he asked.

"No, sir," she said, and registered something between relief and anger on her father's face. She turned to McGonagall. "They were looking for me!"

All three of them shot a withering glance her way, and he father's black eyes evaluated her with a familiar suspicion. He _always _knew when she was lying. Sometimes she swore he was a legitimate, but she would have never gotten away with the half the things she did if he were...though she never _did _get away scot-free. She avoided his gaze easily, no one would be surprised if she were transfixed at the troll.

"I'd never seen a troll before, and there's at least two of you who know how truly stupid I get when novelty is involved," she scoffed and hung her head. "When they found me it was about to bring its club down on me. They hadn't had time to get anyone or they would have. Harry distracted it and Ron took it out with its own club."

"And the binding?" her father asked.

"It's only unconscious, sir," she squeaked. "We thought it best to bind it before we alerted the nearest professor."

"You two seem surprised by her account of the events!" he snapped at Harry and Ron.

"The boys just fought a full-grown mountain troll, Severus!" McGonagall rolled her eyes. "I'm certain all three are surprised to simply be alive. And you, you foolish girl! I know you weren't exposed to much but trust me when I say a _majority _of people live much longer than you without seeing a troll!" she then sighed. "If you are unharmed, Hermione, you can go to your dormitory. I'll be deducting five points from Gryffindor for your behaviour."

She got up to her feet and felt a cold hand clasp fast around her wrist. She turned back to see her father, also now standing and looming over her. "We _will _ be talking about this in the morning, young lady!"


	9. B1Chapter 8: Suspicions and Betrayals

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!" Hermione's father roared leaning over his desk. "YOU COULD HAVE BEEN _KILLED! _YOU NEARLY WERE KILLED! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE? YOU STUPID LITTLE GIRL! WHAT THE HELL IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU?!"

_I see you've calmed down,_ Hermione thought trying-and failing- not to shrink against the wall. The man's tantrums still instilled her with fear, but they also now annoyed her. She had no clue what to do here. If she laid into her lie he would know, he _always_ knew. But if she told him the truth, she would get an earful about how pathetic she was, and the boys...she wasn't naive enough to think he wouldn't seek _some _kind of retribution. Though when he was this angry, he might believe anything she told him. He seemed more than satisfied to believe he'd raised an idiot. She wondered if Hiro and Kaori were subject to such fits. She waited for him to finish. The worry that crossed his face last night...maybe she deserved this...

"AND TO TOP IT OFF LYING TO BOTH THE HEAD OF YOUR HOUSE AND ME! AND FOR WHAT?! THOSE IDIOTS?! THEY WERE PROBABLY LOOKING FOR TROUBLE LIKE THAT NIGHT IN THE TROPHY HALL! OF COURSE I FUCKING KNOW ABOUT THAT!"

_Shit! _That did surprise Hermione. How could he? But she hadn't told a soul. Had he been observing her mad comb through of books in the library to find out what the cerebus was guarding? Did someone catch sight of them that night? Did he catch sight of her observing the door from time to time? Honestly, she'd been so focused on Hiro and school that she hadn't spent half the time she should have on it. Then she remembered. Peeves _saw _them. Information he might have happily dropped to get out of trouble. If not that, she knew Severus Snape had his ways. He always had his finger on the pulse and Hermione equally envied him, admired him and hated him for it.

"Shit, Hermione!" he breathed rubbing his temples, still supporting his weight on his other hand. "Why, why does this _keep _happening?" he collapsed into his chair a moment later.

"Are you hurt?" Hermione asked rushing to his side. Seeing his leg stuck out in front of him as if he couldn't fully move it Hermione swore in Elvish. "What happened?"

"I'm fine!" he snapped. "Not all of us are gifted with blind, stupid luck when faced with a monster!"

The troll did that to him? How'd he get away from it? No, she shouldn't have asked that. It was unfair, Hermione would have been far worse off if it wasn't for her 'blind stupid luck' and they both knew it. She still couldn't believe how she froze to the sight of the troll. Neville might have had doubts that he brave enough to be in Gryffindor, but Hermione _knew _she wasn't.

"I'm sorry," she said touching his arm. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I said I was fine," he said, his voice more even. "But I suppose I could tell you that a thousand times and you would still worry," he sighed placing a hand on the top of her head.

"You know me too well," she shrugged. "If you tell me you're fine, I'll believe you."

"Just _please _tell me this wasn't some astronomically stupid idea to get the others to like you."

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. "Honestly, the thought hadn't crossed my mind. And if you're at all worried you gave me an astronomically stupid idea, I found out something _very _important about myself that would render that impossible."

"Oh?"

"I'm a bloody coward," she shrugged.

"My life would be a _hell _of a lot easier if that were true, love."

* * *

Coward? How he wished that were true. He never did get the truth from her, but he wasn't going to without twisting her little arm. Their little meeting ended with her losing four until eight o'clock every week day and Saturday afternoons until June to a task of his choosing. Perhaps it was harsh, but if she did go after the bloody thing, she could have _died. _ And if he were honest, it kept her the hell away from Quirrell. There wasn't a soul that would believe Quirrell threatened her. Why didn't he just slip vereserum in his goblet and end the whole charade? He would confess to everything...unless he thought to defend against it.

"Until June?" McGonagall scoffed. "That seems a bit harsh."

"She might have _died_," he reminded her. "And so might have those boys in your charge. You know, the _children_ you _rewarded_ for risking their lives."

"What I do with students in my house is my business, Severus," McGonagall said. "The only reason you have a say with your daughter is because she is just that, your daughter."

"And as a parent I can tell you that the Weasleys and Dursleys would be horrified!" _If I remember Petunia correctly, she would probably be upset the boy _didn't _get himself killed, but I know I'm right about the Weasleys._

"Do you think the girl would be so desperate to get up close and personal with every novelty under the sun if you had let her breathe a little as a child?" McGonagall asked pointedly.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" he snapped.

"Must you two bicker like children every meal?" Dumbledore chuckled. "We have plenty enough to watch over. But you two do keep things interesting. If we seem over involved, Severus, it's only because it takes a village...or a school in our case. Many of us have become attached."

"Attached enough to keep her from killing herself?" he scoffed. "I should have home-schooled her."

"You'd still have to let go someday," Dumbledore whispered knowingly.

He looked out to see Hermione rising and leaving the morning meal early again. But this time the seven around her seemed at ease. The youngest Weasley said something and Hermione laughed with a shrug and-winked! Maybe she was just being cheeky. That had to be it. She was a baby, far too young for such nonsense. _And how old were you when you were infatuated with your little redheaded friend? _

"Would it kill her to have _one _female friend?" he grumbled to Dumbledore.

"She might meet one if you give her her afternoons back," Dumbledore whispered back.

Boys it was then. He wasn't budging. Anything that made it harder to keep his eye on Hermione made it easier for Quirrell to make good on his threat. They could talk all they wanted about giving Hermione room to breathe, but at least she _was _breathing.

* * *

"Can you remember anything about it?" Hermione asked Harry.

"Hermione, it was wrapped in parcel paper," he said. "Sorry."

"What about the day?" she asked. "Harry, anything might be helpful."

"Merlin, Hermione," Ron groaned. "You're like a dog with a bone!"

"Well, you _did _say I was a bitch!" Hermione smirked.

The three were huddled around a table in the Gryffindor common room after Hermione helped them with their homework. Usually Harry would still be at practice, but thankfully rain made them come in early. Hermione could pry now. Harry had information she didn't. She wanted to share, but Harry and Ron hadn't put much thought into it. Harry and Ron laughed at her for pointing out Quirrell's frequent appearances by the forbidden corridor, but she snapped at them for indicating her father was milling about the forbidden corridor that night.

"Is it at all possible he was looking for his missing child?" she laid into them. "Or maybe he also wanted to lure the thing in and lock an unsuspecting victim in there with it!"

"Hermione," Ron went pink behind the ears. "We just... of the two who is more likely to do it? Quirrell's a bloody coward."

"And Snape's my _father," _she hissed. "Look unless I'm faced with unequivocal proof, I _refuse_ to believe he is out to stab Dumbledore in the back. Dumbledore is close enough to my father he referred to himself as 'uncle' until my father told him to stop."

"You sure that didn't mean he liked _you_?" Harry asked. "I mean, Dumbledore has a soft spot for young kids."

"And a girl raised like you were?" Ron offered. "You said it yourself. They pity you."

"_Ron!" _Hermione huffed. "There's simply no proof he did it." She decided to keep his injured leg to herself. "Just tell me everything that happened when you went to Diagon Alley."

Harry disclosed everything, the trip to the Underground with Hagrid, the Leaky Cauldron, meeting Quirrell there, emptying volt 317, and he described the parcel as a small, rough shaped, single item. Something that could fit in someone's palm. She imagined it was a magical artifact of immense power. 317-wasn't that the vault broken into during the summer? The same day it had been emptied?

"Ha!" Hermione snapped her fingers. "Quirrell was coincidentally there the day it went the vault was broken into? There's the proof, boys!"

"Your father _really _has you brainwashed, doesn't he?" Ron groaned. "Or are you still upset about the kitten comment?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn't like the pointed look the two men exchanged when they caught up to McGonagall. It simply didn't sit right with her. The two would have been close together to catch up at the same time, meaning Quirrell was _also _there. Harry and Ron also explained the first week of school being rescued by Quirrell after a couple of wrong turns. And now he was at the Leaky Cauldron when the vault was broken into? The evidence was circumstantial, but mounting. _But Dad's leg, what if the cerebus did it? I just assumed it was the troll. _Putting her money on Quirrell was more for her own sake than suspicion. True, there were things she didn't like, but he was the only other candidate. And it just _couldn't _be her father. She'd sooner blame Libby...Libby...she might know! After three months of not seeing her at all, she didn't want to call out of the blue to see if she could defy rules and spy on a professor.

"Hermione," Harry said. "Hagrid has invited us over after the match. You can ask him anything then."

"I'll have to write Hagrid an apology," Hermione sighed. "I have detention every Saturday afternoon and evening until June."

"Till June? His own daughter?" Ron scoffed. "Merlin, maybe you _should _have told him we accidentally locked you in there with the thing!"

"Better me in detention than you two dead," Hermione sang. "I promised Fred and George I would teach them certain phrases in Japanese. You two wanna join? Sharing a secret language might be fun..."

"We can barely do our homework!" Ron moaned.

"_Yare Yare!"_ she rolled her eyes.

* * *

"You have thirty seconds to chose a partner," Severus groaned. "Two months in and if this continues to waste class time I will assign partners _nobody_ will be happy with. THIRTY! TWENTY-NINE!"

Not to his surprise, Hermione and the Parkinson girl paired together and the Longbottom boy was now the one everyone sought to avoid. After time was up he and the Crabbe boy were the last two standing. He wasn't sure which of the two would be doing more damage, but his attention turned to the girls whispering back and forth to each other before, to Parkinson's dismay, the two boys took the table beside them. Had Hermione finally found her ability to advocate to her friends for what she wanted? Parkinson glared at her and Hermione shrank with an awkward smile, almost hiding behind her text book.

Those girls were such opposites; how the hell did they decide to pair-up? After wishing she'd talk to another girl her age he didn't like that he disapproved, and had to pretend he didn't, but he wished she had met someone nicer. "Settle down, girls."

"Yessir," they both said turning their attention to him.

"To continue with our work in health and mood elixirs," he typically would stalk the room, but with his leg he stayed seated. "We'll be making a anti-solmulant called Sanguine Solution. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?"

Not a single hand hit the air. Malfoy looked pensive, as if trying to recall, perhaps he would answer, Parkinson looked at Hermione, who tried shrinking from sight. He suspected she knew, but as always wanted to evade attention. He didn't get it, it seemed like she was always looking for approval, but when she got the chance to earn it, she shrank away. Others were similarly either disinterested or confounded. Potter and Weasley were exchanging whispers.

"Not a single one of you? This is a disappointment," he mused. "Five seconds or I'm choosing someone at random. Five," he looked around. "Four," still nothing. "Three," nothing. "Two...POTTER!"

"Sure, random," he heard the boy grumble to Weasley.

"What happened to one?" Weasley whispered back.

"_Yare Yare," _Hermione groaned hitting her head to the desk.

"Swearing in another language is still swearing!" he snapped. "ten points! I swear it's been the same conversation since you were four!"

He ignored the sniggering as he turned back to Potter. "Since it's clear you have no clue what the Sanguine Solution does, care to hazard a guess?"

"Erm," he looked around. "Sanguine is Latin for blood, right? So, replenish lost blood?"

"Wrong," he sighed. "Sanguine might mean 'blood' in Latin, but in English-which I do believe is your native language, yes?-a sanguine character is someone who is full of energy, for better or worse."

"English is my native language, sir," Harry said. "I might not have known archaic descriptions like 'sanguine' but I do know the meaning of the word 'random'."

Some of the Gryffindor boys laughed at Potter's excuse for a joke. He noticed Finnegan winking at him before Hermione muttered something in exasperation-Elvish, he thought.

"The Sanguine Solution keeps one awake by increasing blood-flow to the brain and blocking sleep inducing chemicals from parts of the brain. That'll be another fifteen points, ten for Potter's cheek," he sighed. "And a further five for the multi-lingual swearing. Honestly, you speak four languages and that's the best you can do with it?"

"Sorry, sir," she muttered.

"You'll find everything you need on page 435," he called over the laughing class. "You all have twenty minutes. Start now!"

The pairs worked to varying degrees of success, he turned his attention to the girls, he often saw Parkinson grab a tool, Hermione would consult her notes in response and hand her a different tool. Hermione was not only doing her own portion of work, but she was more or less coaching Parkinson in everything, and shooting a nod or a head shake Longbottom's way when she noticed him point to ingredient jars. _The book is right in front of you!_

"TIME!" he shouted.

Malfoy and Goyle's potion came along at the expected speed. It's colour not quite the crimson it should be, but that would take more time than they had. He examined it before scoring it 10/10 on his clipboard, saying a few words and awarding a point for well done work. He moved to less impressive specimens, but still on the right track, each scoring at least a seven before he reached Hermione's and Parkinson's.

"Would you girls care to explain how it finished brewing so fast?" he asked.

The potion bubbled a deep crimson, with the correct viscosity, what he was looking at was a completed Sanguine Solution. Had they the full hour to brew it, this would have been perfect. He saw Parkinson beam before Hermione elbowed her. Hermione took his meaning, and after the elbow to the arm, Parkinson's smile faded and the girls exchanged a worried glance.

"I'm waiting," he said.

Hermione swallowed and began speaking very quietly, and very fast. "We (this time Parkinson's elbow nudged Hermione's arm)-erm-I thought with the time limit part of the challenge was to get it finished. When we reviewed the chemical, alchemical and mystical properties of the ingredients, it didn't look like there'd be a poor interaction if we used tools that let let the juices and other properties out faster. It was my idea, erm, Pansy wanted to just follow the instructions."

_That girl was completely on board until she thought it was wrong. Stop lying! _Though, Hermione had figured out something that Severus himself hadn't until his third year. "You girls _did _demonstrate a very thorough understanding of the subject matter. Knowing how the properties of your tools and your ingredients interact as a whole, and the risk of a poor reaction when expedited is incredibly advanced."

Parkinson's grin reappeared and Hermione sighed in relief.

"_However,_" he continued and watched Hermione recoil. "Neither of you girls have the background or practical experience to be making such calls. Not as first years, and no matter how intimate your knowledge of the properties, you're bound to neglect how _dangerous_ one mistake can be without such experience. You girls will receive a perfect score, _but _I will be deducting a point from each of your houses. Honestly, I expected _you_ to know better."

He moved to the bright red solution simmering in Longbottom's cauldron. "Scarlet? I think I see exactly where you went wrong. You didn't get a certain someone's attention when figuring out how much taurine and ironroot to add. Stay after class, Longbottom," he turned to Hermione. "You too. It appears we need to have a talk about cheating and its place at Hogwarts."

Severus progressed to Potter and Weasley and begrudgingly gave them a 9/10, as they had nearly gotten almost everything rest of the cauldrons were mediocre to passing and he simply couldn't wait till the holidays. He dismissed the class five minutes early and leaned against his desk not looking forward to the conversation.

Longbottom now pink-faced trembled as he inched closer to Hermione, who hung her tiny head solemnly and once again dug her fingernails into the back of her hand. Hermione mouthed an unconvincing 'it's fine' as the boy drew even closer. As if he was trying to hide behind a girl half his size. Was that all she was to him?

"She is the last person you want to be hiding behind right now, boy!" he snarled.

"Does he look like he's hiding behind me?" Hermione sighed. "I don't understand how you think we cheated."

"It certainly looks like he's trying," Severus seethed. "As to how you cheated, you gave the boy answers at every turn."

"But it was open book!" Hermione cried. "And we were working in pairs," her voice evened as she sighed. "Neville didn't do anything wrong, sir."

"It was open book," he conceded. "But that was not what he consulted, and yes, you were working in pairs, but I believe you were paired with Miss Parkinson and he was paired with Mr. Crabbe. Am I wrong?"

"No, sir," she sighed. "But you don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly, Hermione!" he snapped. "Pity has always been your undoing! You look at him and think 'oh, that poor boy' and there's nothing you won't do. You're pathetically naive!"

"But Neville wasn't-" she began.

"Hermione, please just shut up!" he shouted. "And you!" he seethed. "Have you anything to say for yourself, Longbottom? Or did you simply plan on having her defend you?"

"I-I-I, erm," Longbottom choked. "I, erm, didn't know it was cheating, sir."

"Allow me to educate you, Longbottom," he sneered. "When you are being spoonfed the answers from someone you are _not_ partnered with, it is cheating. Now get the hell out of my sight!"

Neville obeyed with a speed he had not expected someone with his frame to muster, and Hermione turned away too.

"_Not you," _ he snapped. "It seems we're overdue for a little heart-to-heart. Sit down."

Hermione obliged digging her nails back into her hands and biting her lip.

"I know you feel bad for the boy," he said sitting across from her. "But I won't be accepting that as an excuse in the future. Do you think a quivering voice and bumbling nature prevent them from being manipulative?"

"This isn't just about Neville, is it?" Hermione asked in a low voice with narrowed eyes.

_Naive, not stupid. I'll give her that, _he placed a hand on her head. "Not entirely, no," he admitted. "Though I do feel the need to tell you not to let his mewling guilt you into doing his work for him. I know how desperately you want to feel needed, but I highly recommend you start setting boundaries now. Before the consequences of not doing so become too serious."

"I don't think he's looking to weaponize my pity," Hermione said. "Nor do I think he'll ever plan to. He's just not like that, Dad."

"I hope you're right," he sighed. "Now, you haven't been bothered lately, have you?"

"I'm sorry?" she raised a curious eyebrow.

_She'd know what I meant if Quirrell had been prowling around her...maybe he has no intention of making good on his threat. _He wondered how to warn her, but knew she felt sorry for the man. Longbottom might have been clueless, but Quirrell _did _weaponize pity, and he did it well enough he wasn't sure anyone would believe him responsible if anything happened to her. _Nothing is going to happen to you. _

"Quirrell, I can't give you the details," he told her under his breath. "I wish I could. But you need to stay as far away from him as possible. I don't buy his little quivering coward act, and no matter how much you pity him, you shouldn't either."

"Is this about Hallowe'en?" Hermione whispered. "Ohmigod! Did Quirrell do that to your leg?"

_So close, yet so_ far, he thought. So she put together there was a conflict between them on Hallowe'en. Perhaps she could handle...no! The more she knew the more danger she was in. He would just have to keep an eye on her. "All you need to know is that I suspect he's involved in something very dangerous, and you might get dragged into it if you're not _very_ careful."

"I'll keep my distance," she said, but he could see something churning behind her eyes. "But-"

"_Promise me, Hermione!"_ he insisted.

"I promise," she placed a hand on his arm. "You'll be okay, though, won't you?"

"Of course I will, love," he lied. "Now, I want you to find me as soon as he spot him lurking around you, understood?"

* * *

"I _love _Sundays," Hermione sighed happily.

All three of them sat on a fountain huddled for warmth with Hermione's blue-bell flame sitting at the small of Harry's back so all three could ward off the cold. The slow burning, fuelless flame was a point of pride for Hermione. She'd been working on it since summer. Now she could jar and summon it easily. The beauty was that it burnt hot enough for warmth, but not hot enough to really be dangerous.

"Freedom is lovely," Harry mused pointing up into the clear sky. "I know it's been a while, Hermione, and don't look directly at it, but that yellow ball in the sky is what we call 'the sun'."

"Oh, the sun," Hermione said the words slowly. "Yes, I've read about that. Though isn't it supposed to be warm?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered. "I've never felt so lied to!"

The three of them burst into laughter before returning to _Quidditch through the Ages._ Hermione would have to return it soon, but she was happy it gave Harry a small sense of relief. She didn't want to admit her father was right, but from what she was reading, Quidditch seemed awful. How could something be both so dull and dangerous? She once again turned her thoughts to how to tell them that her father told her to stay away from Quirrell.

"What do we have here?"

"Gah!" Hermione jumped kneeing the book cover and steadying herself before she had the chance to knock over the jar.

"Must you always do that, little girl?" her father gave an exasperated sigh and placed a hand on her head. "And what do you have there, Potter?"

"A library book?" Harry replied.

"Sorry, Potter," he held out his hand. He did not look sorry. "Library books aren't allowed outside the school. Give it here."

To Hermione's surprise he only gave a resigned sigh before handing over the book.

"You should know better, dear," he turned his gaze to her before lowering his voice and speaking in French. "I know first and second years are supposed to spend certain hours outside, but no one enforces them. You should be somewhere where you can be easily found. _Penses avant faire, ma fille."_

"_Oui," _she nodded.

"What was that about?" Ron asked.

"Oh, he was just threatening to let slip to the entire class that I was afraid of Mrs. Norris until I was six if I continue teaching Fred and George Japanese." Hermione shrugged hoping she was convincing.

"I'm afraid of Mrs. Norris now," Ron scoffed. "No one would blame you."

"I bet he made that rule up," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"I wish," Hermione said. "It's one of those rules no one but Madam Pince cares about. So teachers _selectively _enforce it."

"What do you think happened to his leg?" Harry asked as he eyed her father limping away.

Hermione bit her lip and gulped. She didn't have a story yet! How the hell could she not have a cover story?

"Dunno," Ron scoffed. "But I hope it's _really _hurting him."

"_Ron!" _Hermione hissed. "He's still a humanbeing, and my fucking _father!"_

"Sorry, Hermione," Ron said sheepishly.

"It's fine," she said. "Sorry for snapping. I'm not angry...just..." she sighed. "Disappointed."

"You sure sounded angry," Ron grumbled.

"He didn't tell you what happened did he?" Harry asked changing the subject.

_Not in so many words._

* * *

_Hermi-chan!_

_It's been a couple weeks, is everything alright? Mid-terms and pre-holiday exams must be underway. I imagine those are stressful. You told me once my letters were the highlight of your week. Yours are the highlight of mine. This is my first year boarding, and with everyone so busy, even in the clubs, I feel so alone. Please, write me back. _

_Love,_

_Hiro-kun._

That was the single shortest letter Hiro had ever sent her. When _was _the last time she wrote him. It had been weeks. Hermione had been so preoccupied after Hallowe'en that she had stopped writing. In the past three weeks, she'd written him once. Had she forgotten that he was just as loney as she had been? This was so unfair. Splitting her time between Harry, Ron, Fred and George, as well as the assorted unending tasks with her father. Every other moment was spent studying. But Hiro needed her, and she had all but vanished when things in her life got complicated. Was she a shitty friend?

_Hiro-kun,_

_I am so sorry! I am quite busy, but it's no excuse!_

How much should she tell him? It would be wonderful to have someone to confide in, but would it put him in danger too? All the way in Japan she doubted it, but what if her owl was intercepted? What did that mean for them? No, she had to keep it to herself.

_I suppose I was waiting for something interesting to happen to tell you. Nothing keeps happening. I'm sorry to leave you feeling so lonely. That was never my intent. Please, tell me everything and I promise I'll reply. _

_Love,_

_Hermi-chan_

Hermione left the girls' dormitory to run to the owlery and send off her letter when she was cut off .

"Hey, Hermione!" George waved her over to the table.

"I thought she'd been spirited away!" Fred teased.

"Just busy with studying," Hermione shrugged with a weak smile. "Don't feel too neglected, I just got a letter-full from Hiro."

"If you're neglecting him you _must _be busy!" George laughed.

"Sorry," she shrugged. "I have to send this off, but let's play exploding snap when I get back. Promise."

"Archimedes!" Hermione groaned at the owl overhead as she crossed the third floor. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Distracted by the owl tailing her she kept looking back. Hermione instantly regretted it as she bumped into some one. "Shit! Sorry!"

"Language, Hermione Elizabeth," her father groaned. "And are you honestly _still _ wondering around alone?"

"Just sending a letter off before curfew and going back, nothing to worry about," she said. _I might have had a witness handy had you not scared off Neville. The poor boy's terrified to come within a metre radius of me! So thanks for that!_

"You do realize you could have simply given the letter to me to send off? We do have an owl."

"_You _have an owl, Dad," Hermione sighed. "I'm not interested in being treated differently than other students. Is it just Archimedes you have stalking me or did you get the house-elves in on it too?"

"The idea crossed my mind," he seethed before switching to French. "Have you _any _idea how dangerous it is for you to be milling about right now?"

Hermione whistled and Archimedes flew to her. She gave the owl the letter while maintaining eye-contact with her father. "There," she seethed in kind. "I'll do as you please if I can lose the nanny-owl."

"Getting upset with me does not change the reality of the situation, Hermione," he hissed. "You will just have to trust that I know best."

"I'm not upset," she sighed rubbing her temples. "Just-"

"Disappointed?" he folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "You'll be even more disappointed if you don't start listening to me!"

_He's worried, don't get angry, just breathe._ "Understood, sir," she sighed. "I'll be heading back now," her eyes dropped to his leg. "Maybe take your own advice, be careful."

"Hermione," he whispered. _"Restes ici,"_ he switched back to English. "If you're passing pass. Anything we have to say to each other is none of your business."

"S-s-sorry," Quirrell squeaked. "I-I was simply p-p-passing and d-d-didn't w-w-want t-t-to i-in-trude."

"Keep walking then," he snarled before wrapping an arm around Hermione.

_Keep him away from that corridor! _"Actually, Professor," Hermione said. "Fred Weasley was looking for you. Seemed to think it was important. I imagine he'll be waiting either at the staffroom or your office, sir."

"Oh, erm, o-of c-c-course, d-d-dear," Quirell huffed before skittering toward the stairs.

"You made that up, didn't you?" her father muttered in her ear.

"Lie to a teacher, _me?" _Hermione asked innocently, voice still low. "Maybe I did, but it keeps him the hell away from the forbidden corridor now, doesn't it?"

"Come along, you are going to tell me _everything_ you know!"

* * *

"This _Nancy Drew_ nonsense stops now!" Severus hissed. "Did nearly getting killed by the troll not provide enough excitement for you?!"

"You told me to keep my distance, and I'm keeping it," Hermione sighed. "I'm not actively _looking _for trouble. I simply noticed Quirrell's fascination with the forbidden corridor, and put two and two together at after you both exchanged looks like you wanted to kill each other on Hallowe'en. Then you told me to look out for him. Just because I know that he's after whatever artifact you lot are guarding doesn't mean I'm looking to confront him on the matter."

Hermione couldn't seem to decide whether she was nervous or angry as she told him about the mounting evidence against Quirrell, and how she found it. She wasn't lying, but he couldn't help but feel that she omitted details. From what she said, it seemed like she alone noticed these things and pieced them together. However, she had mentioned that the proverbial nail in the coffin came from Potter off-handedly mentioning that he'd met Quirrell in Diagon Alley the day Gringott's was broken into.

"He mentioned it when the article came out," she gave another exasperated sigh. "It links it all together quite nicely," she mused. "But I know there isn't a soul who would believe me, so you can put any worries of me running my mouth off to rest."

"_Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape!" _he snapped. "Don't you _dare _speak to me like that again! What the hell has gotten into you?"

"Erm, sorry, sir, " she said, her usual demeanor returning. "I'm not looking to get myself or anyone else in danger. I'll keep my distance from him. Knowing that he's after the artifact doesn't change that."

"And your little re-direct?" he asked. "Did you not think Quirrell would piece together you lied to him?"

"You would have done the same, Dad," she explained.

Indeed, he was about to do something similar if he noticed Quirrell heading toward the forbidden corridor. She was right, but Quirrell would hesitate in going after him, Hermione was a child, and already drawing too much attention her way. He wished he was more certain of his suspicions earlier. He could have sent her to another school, explained that he didn't trust himself to keep professional with his own daughter, that could have _easily _gotten her accepted elsewhere. Quirrell might have died back on Hallowe'en if Severus didn't try to stop him. He wished he'd simply looked for Hermione and left Quirrell to his fate. So many mistakes, and all of them put Hermione in harm's way. How could he make it right?

"Yes, Hermione," he said. "I, as an adult and fully-trained wizard, would have lured him away. And I would have used something less transparent than your little lie! Have you _any _idea how much danger you've put yourself in?"

Hermione dug her nails into the back of her hand once more as she stared at her feet. Ten years and she was still as helpless as she'd been the day he brought her to the school. How could he be so reckless as to let Quirrell know he was on to his little act? _'I'm a bloody coward'__! You have _no _idea how I wish that were the case. Oh, baby girl, I am so sorry! _

"Hermione," he said resting his hand on her head. "I don't want to find you anywhere alone. If you are not with me or in class you should be safely tucked away in Gryffindor tower. And if I hear about another nightly exploration, I am pulling you out of classes and tutoring you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yessir,"she nodded carefully.

Hermione's brown eyes drifted to a distant corner of the floor and he knew that she was mulling something over in her little head. The girl always did love a puzzle, something literal danger should have deterred her from. How he longed for a time when she would seek refuge behind his knees, had this all happened then he wouldn't have to contend with _her_ to keep her safe. She then shut her eyes, something she did when she suspected he was on to her, and he again remembered the curse of having a clever child. Hermione was clever enough to piece together Quirrell's guilt, but not wise enough to let it alone. His worst fears had come to fruition and he worried she wouldn't live to see her twelfth birthday.

"Whatever you're thinking of," he said lifting her chin. "Leave it be. You're just going to have to trust that I know best."

"Whatever the artifact is," Hermione whispered. "It has to be incredibly important, something that could do some very serious damage...isn't it wrong for me to ignore it?"

"_You did_ not _just say that!"_ Severus hissed.

"Well, isn't it?"

"Who else knows?" he asked, slowly reaching for his wand. _She's observant, don't let on..._

"No one, sir," she whispered eyes scanning the room. "Is someone listening in?"

_Damn it,_ he was spotted. Severus threw his arms around her, wand in hand. Her tiny body tensed with suspicion, and he had only once had been so disgusted with himself. His throat tightened and with a shaking hand he brought his wand to his daughter's head.

"Dad..." Hermione's voice cracked and she looked up him, betrayed, tears filling her large brown eyes.

"_Obliviate,"_ he whispered, his own voice cracking.

Hermione fell unconscious in his arms and he had to stop himself from crying as well. When she woke, she would have no clue of Quirrell's treachery, she wouldn't remember an artifact being kept in vault 317, or the fact that it was moved to the school. With more details he could have been more thorough, but he hadn't planned to wipe her memory, and with her insistence, he had to act now. The only problem was that she didn't know to avoid Quirrell, but he had ways to deal with that. She'd remember being told not to go anywhere outside of class or detention and the threat to pull her from classes. That should have served as a good enough deterrent.

_I'm sorry, love, _he thought picking her up gently. _But there is nothing I will stop at to keep you safe._


	10. B1Chapter 9: Quidditch and Clues

"I don't really remember..." Hermione explained to Fred at breakfast. "My father wanted to talk to me, I fainted in his office, next thing I knew I was in the hospital."

"What did he want to talk to you about...?" Harry asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Wandering the corridors alone is strictly forbidden," she sighed with an eyeroll. "if I'm not in class or detention I'm to be in my dormitory, if I'm caught he'll pull me out of classes and personally tutor me. You know, the usual."

"Usual?" Ron choked before a meaningful glance with each of the twins. "I take back _everything _I ever said about Mum being overbearing!"

"No, you don't," George teased.

"And we don't either," Fred shrugged. "You'll understand when you meet our mum, Hermione."

"Terrifying!" George finished. "But at least we didn't spend eleven years locked in a dungeon."

"I didn't spend eleven years locked in a dungeon, George," she admonished with an eyeroll. "I was allowed to roam the castle once in a while. Did you think I astral projected to teach you card-counting?"

"I thought it was a jail-break!" Fred laughed.

"Why's he tightening his grip?" Harry asked. "It's like he expects something to happen."

"I'm sure he does," Hermione sighed lowering her head to the table. "If he can be believed, I almost died three times before I was two. I think the incident with the troll spooked him."

"Well," Ron said pushing her plate closer to her. "If you're not leaving meals early any more maybe you can have more than a single slice of toast."

"You sound like my father..." Hermione grumbled.

"No," George mused.

"He sounds like Mum!" Fred finished.

Ron's ears turned pink and he turned to his own plate.

After classes Harry, Ron and Hermione worked on their charms homework together in the more or less empty Gryffindor common room. Fred, George, Lee and Angelina were out somewhere, and others were milling about in the very rare November sun. Hermione explained how mind-effecting charms worked in theory, and how those and simple physical charms were related when Harry changed the subject in a low voice leaning in. "Erm, Hermione," he said. "If the troll incident spooked him, why is he forbidding you from leaving the tower _now_? Why not back then?"

"_Honestly_, Harry!" Hermione snapped. "You're not still seriously on about my father chasing whatever the cerebus is guarding?"

"Are you still on about Quirrell?" Harry said.

"On about Quirrell? What the hell are you talking about?" Hermione sighed.

"You can't deny it just because you're embarrassed you were wrong!" Ron snapped. "You're the one who insisted it was Quirrell after the artifact!"

"Artifact?" Hermione asked. "When did we decide it was a magical artifact?"

"_You _did!" Ron groaned. "When Harry described it."

"Wait!" Hermione whispered. "You _saw_ it?"

"Wrapped in parcel paper, I already told you!" Harry snapped. "Are you going to have me go over the whole day again? I thought pointless interrogations was your father's hobby!"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Hermione cried.

"Fine!" Ron yelled. "Stay in bloody denial!"

What the hell were these two talking about? Hermione had never suggested Quivering Quirrell was some mastermind out to get whatever the cerebus was guarding. Why would she? And Hermione had no recollection of interrogating Harry on anything...Were they messing with her? Would they be so frustrated if they were just messing with her? She bit her lip and sighed putting her head on the table.

"You really don't remember," Harry whispered. "Do you?"

* * *

"I don't seem to recall agreeing to share custody, headmaster" Severus said with a raised eyebrow. "It's for the girl's own good."

Severus had met with Dumbledore over tea to discuss the stone's protections, or lack there of. He had told Dumbledore he needed to speak with him on the matter. And Dumbledore invited him up to his office for tea, like a good Brit. Cold out? drink tea! A difficult conversation with your boss? tea! Erase your daughter's memory in order to protect her, betraying the only person to ever trust you and don't know how to cope with the guilt? Well, Severus suspected he just wasn't British enough for that to work.

"I wouldn't dream of lecturing you on parenting," Dumbledore explained. "But I do believe there'd be no harm in letting her attend her best friend's first Quidditch match. Nor is there any harm in you taking a break and enjoying the sunshine."

Severus turned his thoughts to the grey skies all week. "Unless something drastic happens tomorrow, I don't believe _any _of us will be enjoying the sun."

Dumbledore smirked and peered at him over his glasses. That man always made him feel like a child. "Do what you will, Severus, it was simply a friendly suggestion."

"I'll take your friendly suggestion under advisement," he replied coldly. "But with that poor girl's luck, she'd be struck in the head by a stray bludger."

"I doubt you would let such a thing happen," Dumbledore chuckled. "I feel like you'd be at the girl's side if she so much as got a paper-cut."

"Hallowe'en should adequately disprove that theory!" Severus pinched his temples. "Can we please get back to the matter at hand? Why are we protecting the Stone with games and puzzles? Why is the lock not enchanted? It's only a matter of time a first-year student uses a spell taught _in their classes_ to unlock the door and have _Fluffy_ bite their little head off. We _know _the honour system doesn't work here. In fact, I'm amazed the Weasley twins haven't gotten themselves killed in the name of mischief. I'm certain your announcement about the corridor causing death enticed as many as it frightened off. Is it not better to simply guard the philosopher's stone with impassable enchantments rather than purposefully passable?"

"Parenthood has made you paranoid, Severus," Dumbledore chuckled again. "Actually, no, you've always been cautious. That's why I know I can trust you."

"Am I to be flattered or insulted?" he asked knowing he didn't deserve such a great man's trust.

"Neither, Severus," he said. "I simply speak the truth. I imagine Hermione is very lucky to have such a vigilant father watching out for her."

Did he know? Severus's stomach tied itself in knots and he couldn't erase the image of Hermione's tear-filled eyes looking up at him with a distinct mixture of anger, fear and despair that he had never seen before. It was as if her whole little world came crashing down around her in a second. No, not as if, it did come crashing down around her. He was her father, he was supposed to protect her not attack her. Yet he had to, she was too much at risk if he let her keep the memories. He wondered if she would ever understand? It didn't matter, as far as she was concerned she simply fainted, and there was no way to contradict that. Why did he care if he disappointed her? She was safe, that was all that mattered. Of course he wanted a good relationship with his daughter, he wanted her to have faith in him, to be proud of him, but those were luxuries he couldn't afford. _If wishing for her safety makes me the bad guy, I don't care. _

"But I do need to remind you that you agreed to look out for another child," Dumbledore looked at him over his glasses and once again making him feel like a child.

Severus hadn't _not _been looking out for the Potter boy. But he knew he was right, a Quidditch match was a perfect place to have an "accident". How could he not think of it? All Quirrell needed to do was enchant a bludger, hex his broom, launch a rogue object his way, no one would even realize it was murder if he was sly enough...he _had _to be there to ensure nothing happened. Keeping the boy alive might begin to prove more difficult. Why the hell did McGonagall assign him a role on the Quidditch team? Not only was he too young, but he was a target for anyone who might support Voldemort. Fine, he'd go. He wondered if there was anyway for him to insist Quirrell sit next to him. That would make his life so much easier.

"If you think there's a chance of him being attacked you should consider cancelling the match," he suggested.

"I suppose you think I should put the boy under strict orders not to leave Gryffindor tower outside of classes and meals?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrow.

"I know what you're doing," Severus groaned. "Your criticisms of my parenting choices aside; yes, I do believe the boy would be better off under those circumstances."

"Do you think any orders can contain James and Lily Potter's son?" Dumbledore chuckled.

"Point taken, sir," he sighed.

* * *

"I hate to ask..." Harry started.

Hermione rolled her eyes and magically dried the ink in her letter to Hiro and set it aside. "Ask Harry, I promise not to bite your head off again."

"I still can't believe you don't remember any of it," Harry shook his head. "Do you think you hit your head when you fainted?"

"Maybe," she mused.

Forgetting everything to do with Quirrell and the artifact seemed awfully suspicious, and convenient for Quirrell if she was at all right. But the last person she spoke to before she fell unconscious was her father. He had done some pretty terrible things in the past under the impression they were to keep her safe. See, eleven years locked in a dungeon...sort of...but she simply refused to believe he would use a memory charm on her. Why would he? No, she hit her head, it explained the memory and the headaches.

"I'm just glad you still remember all the goblin rebellions!" Ron scoffed. "I can't believe how many their are!"

"Is that all I am to you?" Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "There's more to me than the ability to remember class-readings, you know!"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "You're also fun to destroy in chess!"

"I also happen to be a very gifted catastrophizer!" Hermione laughed. "Sorry, Harry, what did you want to ask?"

"Any chance you can get that book back from Snape? There's no reason for me to hesitate, but you _are _his daughter, so it would be easier for you to ask than one of us."

"Sure," Hermione said. "It was signed out in my name anyway I'll just-crap!"

"Hermione?" Ron and Harry asked.

"I'm so, so, so sorry, Harry!" Hermione shrank and dug her nails into her hands. "I just, erm, well, I, erm...Dad told me that if he caught me in the corridors he wouldn't hesitate to pull me out of classes!"

"Right," Ron said. "You told us Monday, I can't believe we forgot."

"It's fine!" Hermione said. "I'm not sure if he can really make good on that threat...maybe I will go. He does seem to _hate _you. Yeah, I'll-"

"Stay here and get Ron straight on the Goblin rebellions while I get the book," Harry said. "I'd sooner deal with one stupid comment from your father than have you pulled out of classes."

"Really?" Hermione squeaked. _Damn it! I must sound insane. _She still felt legitimate surprise when others did things for her.

"I wanted the book in the first place," Harry shrugged. "I'll be back."

* * *

"Still not willing to see Pomfrey about that leg?" Filch asked leaning against the staffroom table.

"No need," Severus said wrapping fresh bandages around his mangled leg. _Two weeks and it still hurts like hell!_ "I am more than capable of handling this on my own. " _If I couldn't, I would have already lost the leg._

"It certainly looks like that," Filch grumbled.

"You sound like my eleven-year-old," he rolled his eyes. "Though I suppose if someone had to find out, I'm glad it was you. No one else would have believed it."

The two shared a rare and meaningful glance. The two had a strained relationship since the day he started, both more or less hated by the rest of the staff, they were on fragile amicable terms with one another. That fragile bond built on a mutual frustration with the rest of the school meant Filch didn't pry for details, simply accepting he was trying to prevent an intruder from entering the corridor, and agreed to inform him when he saw movement at night. Though they still exchanged venom at each other from time to time. But outside Dumbledore, this was the closest thing either had to an adult friendship, so they tolerated it.

"The blasted thing has three heads," Severus grumbled. "How was I supposed to keep an eye on all three?"

A small form peeked through the door caught in his peripheries and he turned to see Potter staring at him, his face pale and mouth slightly agape. The boy must have heard every bloody word...how could he have been so stupid? He could erase the memory, but he couldn't do that in front of Filch, nor could he take Potter to the hospital wing claiming he fainted. Everyone knew the two didn't get along. Suspicions would be high.

"POTTER?!"

"I, erm, was just wondering if I could have my book back, sir?" he said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

So Potter and Hermione had _something _ in common after all. They both had an _incredible _knack for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"LEAVE!" he shouted.

All he could do was hope he had no clue what he was talking about, but he did wonder if Potter had an idea of what lie behind the locked door. That face, something had been turning over in his mind, and it was more than the shock of seeing a bloodied, mangled leg. He would have to keep a better eye on the boy.

"Shit!" he spat.

* * *

"Look," Hermione told Harry. "I know my dad hasn't been very nice, but he wouldn't do it! You don't understand the respect he has for Dumbledore. He would never steal from Dumbledore! Dumbledore _trusts_ him! I'll personally-"

"I can't imagine he admires Dumbledore that much," Ron said. "And he seems to tolerate him more than trust him. Honestly, Hermione, do you think every teacher is a saint?"

"He's my father!" Hermione snapped. "And if you don't buy that Dumbledore trusts him _I _trust him!"

"Hermione," Harry whispered. "The man locked in you in a _literal _dungeon for eleven years. Just because he raised you doesn't mean you should trust him unconditionally."

"Hark who's talking!" Hermione seethed. "Your aunt and uncle locked you in a _cupboard_ for eleven years! And for the _last time, I was not locked in a dungeon for eleven years!"_ _At least not technically..._

"Which is why I am the best person to tell you that!" Harry snapped. "Can you honestly tell me that what Snape's doing is that different from the Dursleys?"

"Yes!" Hermione cried. "The Dursleys were trying to tear you down because they can't stand magic. _They _were _trying _to be harmful. My dad doesn't hate me. I almost _died, _Harry! Several times! Ever since I was little I could see the fear in his face when he had to leave me. _He's worried!_"

The three sat in silence over their history books and Hermione wondered if motive really did make a difference. It had to. Harry described his childhood and no part of it sounded like hers. Sure, Hermione was isolated, but she was talked to, held, read to, tolerated, told she was loved. Harry enjoyed none of those things and she did, even if it wasn't always reliable. And as desperate as she had been to see other children, she wasn't offered like some sacrificial lamb the way Harry was. These things mattered. Her father's intentions mattered. They _had _to!

"That was brilliant, Hermione!" George came up from behind her.

"Though I'm beginning to-" Fred changed tone as the two saw there faces. "What's going on?"

"Did Ron say something stupid again?" George mused.

"No!" both Ron and Hermione snapped.

"Bad timing," Fred said. "We'll talk to you-"

"Fred," Hermione sighed. "It'll bother me if I don't know. What was so _brilliant_?"

"Telling Quirrell that I was looking for him," he laughed.

"He's been after us all week," George explained.

"He can't tell the two of us apart," Fred smirked.

"So, naturally, Fred said he was me when Quirrell found him!"

"And George simply told the truth!"

"That _is_ brilliant!" Ron agreed with a laugh.

"Not still on about Quirrell then?" Harry scoffed.

"We had no clue what Hermione actually wanted us to do," Fred shrugged.

"But we thought that would be in line with something she'd expect!" George said.

"So what'd he do?" Fred asked.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hermione groaned. She didn't remember _any _of this! Even if Quivering Quirrell of all people did something to get on her bad side, she'd do something about it herself. She wouldn't sick the twins on someone. She didn't even know she had that power until now. _Oh the power of pity._

"What did Quirrell do to earn your wrath?" George smirked.

"When did he start?" Hermione asked.

"He said I was looking for him Sunday evening," Fred mused. "Why?"

Sunday...that was when she fainted. Must have been something that she forgot...why did she forget everything about Quirrell and the artifact? If Hermione _did _sick the twins on him, she thought she'd remember why she would do something like that. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together, digging her nails into the backs of her hands. What happened? This was giving her a headache. She rubbed her temples.

Harry and Ron joined in on the interrogation until Hermione's head hit the table. Hermione stared at the lot of them, three pairs of blue eyes and one of green boring into her. They wanted answers she just didn't have. She wished she did. She wished she remembered about the artifact, she wished she remembered why she suspected Quirrell, but it was gone. Nothing more than a line or two in her journal at most-_her journal!_ She hadn't been reliable, but maybe she wrote enough about it to make sense of it and shake suspicion off her father! Hermione vowed to start writing in it _nightly_.

"I'm not feeling well," Hermione rubbed her temples again. "Sorry, but I don't remember. I hit my head when I fainted."

She left the four to weak well wishes from each of them. She noticed Ron and Harry exchange a meaningful look and she wondered if they had the same suspicions she did.

"_Lumos,"_ she whispered as she opened her journal from beneath the covers of her bed.

Under the covers, in the dark, curtains drawn. Hermione wrote her journal in Elvish, Goblin and Japanese alternating between entries. She felt so paranoid, but she didn't trust her father not to read it when she lived with him and she felt like Pavarti and Lavender would definitely read it to make fun of her if they could. A million measures made her feel safe. Maybe her father's paranoia rubbed off on her?

She noticed just how infrequently she wrote, there were few entries since Hallowe'en. Few was generous, fourteen days past and she'd written three times. She started on Hallowe'en when she saw Quirell's name.

_I don't like the way they looked at each other. It was like Dad wanted to rip Quirrell's head off, and Quirrell looked like he was ready for it. I don't know what happened, but it sent chills down my spine. I'll have to keep an eye on the two of them. Somehow, I imagine Dad'll have me committed after the troll...goodbye, freedom._

The next meaningful entry was from the previous week.

_Harry says he met Quirrell on Diagon Alley the day the vault was broken into. Hanging around the third floor, following close to Dad when he was spotted on the third floor on Hallowe'en... Dad tells me to stay away from him, and now he's at the Leaky Cauldron the same day the vault was broken into? It has to be him. I need to believe this! Because if it wasn't Quirrell after the artifact..._

_Goddamnit, Wednesday Hermione! _she thought bitterly. If it wasn't Quirrell then what? Couldn't she have written more? What was even the point of keeping a damn journal if it didn't give her back her memories when she lost them? What had she considered? The worst part was the last entry had said nothing of any of this. It was short, and either completely meaningless or entirely meaningful depending on what she was trying to work out.

_They have to be wrong. I refuse to believe it's him. Could it be?_

Friday Hermione was just as useless as Wednesday Hermione! That was it. Hermione resolved to write in much more detail moving forward, but she needed to know. Denial was comfortable, but what if she knew too much? What if someone wiped her memory? _You're being stupid and paranoid! _She emerged from her gold and scarlet cocoon placed her journal in her bag, which she slung over her shoulder and swayed as she made it down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, guys," she said returning to the table.

Guilt fell on her shoulders as she saw Lee and Angelina had joined the four in a game of Exploding Snap. Laughter rang through the common room and she _hated _her self when she saw the easy, rosy smiling faces of her friends. They were having fun until six sets of eyes turned to her rubbing her temples in concern.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I've had this headache all week," she murmured. "I'm really sorry, can one of you take me to the hospital wing?"

The six of them exchanged concerned glances before staring at her as if she announced she were dying.

"If not it's fine!" Hermione nervously laughed before hissing in pain. _At least the headache's real._

"All week?" Ron asked. "I hope it's not serious..."

"It's a headache, Ron," she said. "I'm not dying. I can probably take myself. Yeah, I should just go, my father can't pull me out for seeing after my health." _I hope. It's after hours..._

"You're barely standing," Fred looked at her swaying.

The swaying started as an act, before she saw them all gathered together having fun. But now she was legitimately dizzy. _God, Dad's right, I'm pathetic!_

"I'll take her," a voice said behind her.

Hermione turned to see Percy Weasley standing behind her, cleaning his glasses, standing kind stiff and erect. Was that boy ever at ease? He was nothing like his brothers, he shared the flaming red hair, the freckles and behind his glasses were the same blue eyes, but like Hermione, he didn't seem to understand how to relate to others. Which is why they were all very surprised that Perfect Prefect Percy had volunteered to head out after hours.

"I'm a prefect," he reminded them. "They'll probably think she's putting on an act if anyone catches you lot taking her. Come along, Hermione."

"I'm so, so sorry, Percy!" Hermione moaned again.

They hadn't even gotten half-way there before the entire world spun and Hermione had to sit to catch her breath. Percy looked around uneasy before it became obvious the dizziness wasn't going anywhere soon. He put her on his back, which is where she was as they made it to the floor of the hospital wing.

"It's fine," Percy said. "Fred's right, you're very light, so it's no problem."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Hermione asked. "You could have had me go on my own."

"Just because I don't join in on my brothers' schemes doesn't make me unfeeling," he told her. "I simply don't buy into that nonsense. And I don't think you do either. You seem to have _some_ sense about you."

"Sorry, Percy," Hermione bit her lip and buried her face into Percy's shoulder. She wasn't sure how to respond to him. Percy didn't seem to be half the unfeeling construct Ron, Fred and George made him out to be. But he could be so harsh at times, like anything unexpected terrified him. Hermione should have been more sympathetic to that. But one question remained. "But I'm..._me..._other than those six, and I still have no clue what they see in me, erm, nobody's nice to me." _I might deserve it..._ "Why are you being nice to _me?"_

"Might have slipped your mind, Hermione," Percy shrugged. "But I don't seem to be liked either."

The walked their way in silence with Hermione's face still buried in his shoulder when she heard Filch's voice call out.

"Nine o'clock is after hours, aren't we in trouble?!" he grinned.

"I'm taking her to the hospital wing, Mr. Filch," he explained. "It'll be straight there and back."

"Get going then," he spat.

Just their luck, they had almost made it there before she heard the last voice she wanted to hear call out.

"What happened?!" her father snapped, nearly ripping her from Percy's back.

"She said she had a headache that wouldn't go away all week, sir," Percy explained.

"All week?" his voice softened and grew distant.

"Yessir. On our way to the hospital wing she got dizzy."

Did he buy Hermione was unconscious? Maybe he wouldn't grill her for not going to the hospital wing sooner, or ask her if she'd been remembering to eat. Or tell her that if she took better care of herself she wouldn't be wasting Pomfrey's time. She had no clue what to expect, but all of those seemed likely. She felt him adjust as he cradled her closer to him.

"I'll take her in, Mr. Weasley," he said. "You should return."

"Fainted again?" Pomfrey asked as her father set her on a bed. "You _carried _her in here with your leg like that?"

_His leg!_ Hermione should have at least attempted to walk, so he would have made some snide comments, but it was better than his leg falling off. She couldn't remember how he hurt his leg. Trying to remember made her headache worse.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you," he seethed before whispering "Shit."

"Sit down," she instructed.

"Percy Weasley brought was carrying her on his back. Claimed she had a headache all week and got dizzy."

"I won't ask about the leg as it seems you are trying so hard to hide it," Pomfrey groaned. "But I _am_ treating it."

"My daughter..."

"Is in good hands and is leagues better off than you! Now, let me see it!"

"I'm having flashbacks to my childhood," he groaned. "There!"

"Severus, what the hell happened?"

"What the hell happened to no questions?"

Pomfrey set to work, admiring the medical magic he'd already used, stating that if it wasn't for that she expected it'd be gone. She admonished him for carrying her in again and said that even with the neglect and damage she could have him up and healed by morning. He took her advice and for a moment Hermione was terrified he'd be staying overnight, but she soon heard him move.

"Should I be insulted?" Pomfrey pouted as Hermione felt the blanket over her straighten and form a cocoon.

"Be insulted if you're insulted," her father brushed locks of hair away from her face. "I don't really care. Regardless of my appreciation."

"The girl is fine!" she sighed. "Go, get some rest."

He left and Hermione let her eyes flutter open as Pomfrey prised her mouth open with a finger.

"What...?" Hermione groaned faking disorientation The room still spun, so she didn't have to work too hard.

"You're in the hospital," Pomfrey explained. "Drink this."

Hermione examined the bottle she handed her. It was dark and Hermione's vision wasn't the best at the moment. She couldn't identify it.

"I'm not going to poison a patient in my care or my most vindictive co-worker's daughter!" she snapped. "Drink it, child. Headache all week! Should have been here before it got so bad."

"Erm, sorry," Hermione obeyed. "Thanks."

"When did it happen?" she asked.

"Off and on since Monday," she admitted. "I must have hit my head pretty hard when I fainted." _Please tell me I did! Please!_

"Hit your head?" Pomfrey laughed. "Oh no, dear. You didn't even hit the ground when you collapsed. You were lucky your father was there, not even a bruise."

_Didn't even hit the ground? Lucky my father was there? This _can't _be happening!_

* * *

"How's your head?" Severus asked before the morning commotion.

"I'm fine, Dad," Hermione insisted getting out of bed. "Or do you doubt Madam Pomfrey can work miracles?"

"Don't let her overhear that," he said resting a hand on her head. "She's already convinced she's the second coming of Merlin."

Hermione covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. It seemed less sincere than usual.

"Do you know what triggered it?" he asked.

"Eye-strain is the most likely culprit," she mused, but something was off in her voice. "You know how obsessive I get."

"That I do," he sighed. "You _need _to be more careful, Hermione." Forgetting to take care of herself, reading till her eyes gave out, sure there might have been something she was hiding-no, she was _definitely_ hiding something-but it was still true.

"Yessir," she said, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"And stop doing that," he said. "You'll just create more work for poor Madam Pomfrey."

"Erm, sorry!" she stopped and played with the ends of her hair.

_What is going on in that little head of yours, girl?_ He thought to ask, but knew he wouldn't get a straight answer. "I have some good news for you if you're released today."

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"As it seems I am the only person who understands how little importance Quidditch holds, I have to attend the match," he said. "Enjoy the rare free Saturday if you're not dragged there yourself. Though knowing the Weasleys, I imagine you will." _If I wasn't confident you'd be surrounded by hundreds I have no clue what I'd do!_

"The whole day?" Hermione nearly squeaked in disbelief.

"Assuming you don't go off trying to get yourself killed," he sighed. "Yes. Don't do anything stupid."

"Define stupid?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"_Hermione!"_

"Right, erm, sorry. Nothing stupid, sir."

* * *

"This is so exciting!" Ron nearly died holding one end of Dean's _Potter for President _banner.

"Yeah," Hermione laughed.

As much as Hermione dreaded the corridors and meals, this was a new sort of crowding. She was shoulder to shoulder, crammed between Ron and Hagrid with unknown people in the row behind her. She dug her nails into her palm to stop herself from mentally shutting down. She wanted to so bad. Hermione always imagined she would enjoy being surrounded by people, but the energy, the shouting, the bodies, Hermione wanted to shrink until she was nothing. _A Gryffindor afraid of crowds? I'm so pathetic!_

"You've must've seen loads of these!" Ron beamed. "I've always wanted to see one live!"

"From me hut, Ron," Hagrid said. "Very different here in the stands."

"What about you, Hermione?" Ron asked. "You grew up in the school right?"

"I don't think so!" Hermione let out a laugh. "Dad _hates _quidditch. I thought I did too from what I've heard and read, but it has bought me a free Saturday."

"He didn't bring you to a single match?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I was a sick kid," Hermione lied. "I'm sure he was just concerned it would be too much excitement for me." _This _is _too much!_

"I wonder what your-" Ron started but was cut off by the Gryffindors filing out on to the pitch. "Look!"

* * *

"Pleased you made it," Dumbledore chuckled.

"I didn't have anything better to do," Severus shrugged sitting beside the old man.

Dumbledore was right, the grey November skies turned clear and blue, as if to herald Potter in. Whatever gift Hermione had for predicting probabilities, she had nothing on Dumbledore. A sunny day in November, in Scotland.

"You'd think you'd attend a match when your house was involved," McGonagall tutted. "But it seems after years of not being able to attend, you still wish you weren't."

He _did_ prefer spending the hours of match-time alone with his child. What parent wouldn't? It was a reliable four times a year where he wouldn't be called upon and he was permitted the rare glimpse into that little mind of hers. Which only became rarer as she got older. Though after Sunday he hardly blamed her. Parental angst aside, he was here for a reason.

"Aren't you co-announcing with Jordan?" he asked scanning both the staff and student stands. "Seems like a full house. Where's Quirrell?"

"I do imagine he will show," Dumbledore said in such a way that he imagined Quirrell was already there.

After a cheeky exchange suggesting the other's team would crush theirs, McGonagall took off and Severus glued his eyes to Potter. Nothing was going to happen to that boy. Everything was going to be fine and he will have wasted an afternoon. He looked forward to lording that over Dumbledore next time Gryffindors played. Too damn bright and too damn crowded.

Irony was a cruel, cruel mistress. Severus had settled in to his boredom when the game progressed as usual for perhaps an hour when it happened. Amid the clear blue sky he saw Potter jerking around, he braced himself against his broomstick as much as he could, but his legs flailed about like a ragdoll. At first, he thought the boy lost control until the broomstick tried to buck him off!

"Shit!" he gasped.

The stands erupted with panic, and Severus started muttering the first countercurse that came to mind. He couldn't save Lily, but he could save her son.

* * *

"Shit!" Hermione squeaked watching in horror as Harry clung to the rogue broom. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"I don't get it!" Ron said peering through Hagrid's binoculars. "What's going on?!"

"Can I see those?" Hermione whispered.

He passed her them and Hermione scanned the crowd. _Please don't be him!_ A knot formed in the pit of her stomach and her chest tightened as she settled on someone reciting a spell maintaining eye-contact. He didn't even blink..

Hermione shut her eyes and opened them again, but the greasy, dark-haired pale form of her father still stared at Harry like breaking eye-contact would kill him. _No!No!No!Shit!Shit!Shit!_

Hermione leaped up from the spot handing the binoculars to an agape Ron. She fled the stands like a girl possessed and hid behind the stands. She would run the perimeter of the pitch to avoid detection, but she had to be fast. She sped past the empty perimeter not taking in anything but the direction her feet took her and the burning in her lungs.

She was so oblivious that she crashed head first into Quirrell's side, sending them both to the frosty grass. He stared at her in shock for a moment, his eyes wide open, mouth agape and face paled as if the Dark Lord himself threw himself into him rather than a little girl barely half his size. She didn't have time to ask why he watched transfixed from the perimetre or why he looked so frightened. He was Quivering Quirrell after all.

"Shit! Sorry!" Hermione cried forgetting her language and ran off before feeling fingertips brush her arm, too late to grab her. _Probably wants to chastise me. That's why. Nothing sinister..._

Finally she arrived behind the teachers' stands and Hermione prepared herself for the impossible, and summoned the bluebell flames she had created. Sure, they didn't burn as hot as real flames, but that meant she setting her father's robes aflame would only serve as a distraction. It took him a moment to recognize it, and she heard a string of curses from him, which was her cue to coax the flames into the jar she kept in her pocket. Hermione watched for a moment between the stands and noticed Harry regaining control of the broom. Hermione placed her shoes in her bag, and crept away as slowly and quietly as she could, steering clear of Quirrell.

"What did you _do_?" Ron whispered in amazement under the cheering Gryffindors.

"What I had to," She drew her legs up to her chest. "I don't want to talk about it."

Ron's eyes grew again in size and opened his mouth before dropping it.

Hermione buried her head in her knees and tried to push down the nausea. Now that the danger was gone Hermione could feel every inch of her body, every bit protesting its own existence. Sure no harm came from it, but she _attacked _her father. Her only living family, she set him on fire. Who _did _that? But she had to...Hermione now had to live with the knowledge that her father wanted to kill her friend. _Tried _to kill her friend. What was she supposed to do with that information? Was that why he erased her memory? Because she was on to him?

"Blimey," Hagrid said. "You'd think she was the one who nearly died. You alrigh', Hermione?"

"I left the stands to be sick," Hermione lied. _Why is lying so easy?_ "And I did exactly that. _On Quirrell."_ _He'd never deny it. _"It was so embarrassing!"

Harry eyed her with suspicion from beside Hagrid, and Ron had given her the same look. They knew there was more to the story, and she had to find away to help them without implicating her father.

"You mean Fluffy?" Hagrid asked when Harry said he suspected someone (he glanced at Hermione at the 'someone') was trying to get whatever the cerebus was guarding.

"_Fluffy?"_ Ron scoffed incredulously. "You _named_ that thing?"

Hagrid explained to them that Fluffy was being lent to Dumbledore to keep the philosopher's stone safe. He didn't mean to tell them that. There were several times Hagrid said "I shouldna' told yer tha'!" during the whole thing.

"Who do yer think is tryna steal the ruddy thing, anyway?"

"Whoever just tried to kill Harry!" Hermione cried before either boy could implicate her father.

"What?!" Hagrid gasped. "Someone tried ter kill Harry?"

"The broomstick!" she snapped. "It was clearly jinxed. I know a jinx when I see one."

"Because you read abou' them I suppose?" Hagrid sighed. "Ya could have bin mistaken. Only very powerful dark wizards could jinx a broomstick from tha' far. A studen' couldna have done tha'."

"We don't think it's a student after the stone," Harry said. "We think it's-" he looked at Hermione. "a teacher."

"A teacher?! Blimey, Harry!"

"_Someone _jinxed Harry's broom!" Hermione seethed. "You emptied the vault, it was broken into by someone _who knew_ it was there!Someone probably let the troll in as a distraction to get it, and now someone's trying to _kill _Harry! Because he knows too much!"

All three of them could agree on this before Ron of all people turned to Hermione. "How do you know it was a jinx? I mean, you don't know who the caster was, so you didn't see it being cast."

"A benefit of being raised by a paranoid prat is that he got me to memorize all sorts of ways to recognize a hex," Hermione shrugged. "He's thorough, I've got to give him that."

All three of them stared at Hermione like she had grown two additional heads herself. She'd never once spoken about her father that way. It was as if they expected she was incapable of recognizing his faults. Hermione turned her attention to her, very cold feet. She didn't want to be caught drying her socks, so now she had soaked feet in her shoes. It was easier to think about that than where to go next. Harry saved her there:

"We know someone's trying to steal it, Hagrid," Harry said. "We'll just find out on our own if you don't tell us. Could be dangerous."

"Will ya stop tryna meddle inter thing's yer have no business meddlin' in! I'm no' tellin' yer about anymore about Fluffy, the stone, Nicholas Flammel or anythin'!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged a meaningful glance to another groan from Hagrid.

"Don' do anythin'," Hagrid said. "I's no' safe, yer lot."

"We can't, Hagrid," Hermione shrugged. "Not with my father stalking us."

Hermione had no idea how true her words were as they left the hut, assuring Hagrid they would be well behaved. Not until Hermione saw a familiar set of yellow eyes peering at her from a near by tree branch.


	11. B1 Chapter 10: Mirror of Erised

Severus sighed and regarded the class more rambunctious than usual. Last day before the holidays, and the students were all very aware of this.

"I just feel awful," he heard Malfoy say among the noise. "For those who aren't wanted back home for the holidays!"

"Settle down," he said. "I'd like to commence the class some time before the holiday."

That shut the lot of them up. Fourteen heads turned to face him, eyes open and aware.

"Many teachers are wasting their last class before the holidays because they think it's good for you," he told them with an intentional note of frustration. "It's not. But seeing as I am the only teacher with enough sense to see this, I'm putting a stop to the scramble for partners next term. This will be an unfair exercise for those of you who take this class seriously, but I'm done pairing stragglers. This seems an easier method than teaching you to count to thirty."

Everyone looked at each other before turning their gaze to Longbottom. They took his meaning. Random pairings. This would be his approach to first and second year classes from then on. Malfoy raised his hand at the exact time as Parkinson. _And so begin the complaints_...

"What if we're already working well with our partners, Professor?" Malfoy asked.

"I admit it's unfair for some of you," he said. "But others," his eyes fell on Longbottom. "Are forcing my hand at the issue."

The chubby little boy squirmed in his chair and turned a violent shade of pink. Glares from students in both houses fell on him and he knew the boy would be blamed for this. Part of him felt pity, but he felt the boy deserved it. Longbottom should at least try to brew one potion correctly. While he was at it he could learn how to write a damn essay that.

There was at least one set of eyes not on Longbottom. He expected a nasty glare from Hermione, but instead she skipped that step and went straight to burying her face in her book.

"Miss Parkinson," he said. "You also had a question?"

"Can we trade if we get partners we don't think we'd work well with?" she asked.

_Don't you mean partners that will do the work for you?_ "Afraid not, Miss Parkinson. There will be no changing, no trading, no refusals of work and no whinging. Am I understood?"

A collective "yessir" filled the classroom in grumbling tones. Nobody was happy. That was fine. At least there was one pairing he was happy with. He couldn't think who to rig Hermione with, perhaps the Patil girl, or the Thomas boy, _maybe _the Zambini boy? That he decided to leave to fate, but he did set Potter and Longbottom up together. Petty, perhaps, but delicious all the same.

"I will call your names in alphabetical order, you will draw a number from this box, once everyone has retaken their seats the numbers will be be revealed and you will _quickly_ mobilize to your new pairs and begin the assigned potion for your number. The pair that has made the most progress will be exempt from the two-parchment roll essay on the healing properties of black mamba venom. The last pair will have to write a one-roll essay on the importance of timing."

"The hell!" a voice whispered.

"So unfair!" another whinged.

"I better not get Longbottom!" another grumbled.

_"Silence!"_ he shouted. "Miss Brown, you're up! Today!"

The little blond girl gingerly approached, quickly drew her lot and skittered back to her seat. Everyone did this, including the Slytherins, perhaps catching his mood after questioning him. Yet Hermione, who crept along on the balls of her feet everywhere she went, approached quickly, did not make eye-contact, drew her lot as fast as she could and retreated with equal speed. _Still angry I see. I'd love to know what it was I_ _did_!

Since the Quidditch match she'd been off. She spoke when spoken to, and as little as she could get away with. Severus was dangerously close to becoming one of those parents that demanded a syllable count. But the girl at least stayed out of trouble. _Why are you so difficult?_

The class revealed their numbers to yet more whinging and Severus began saw how the idea could go so awry. Weasley wound up with Malfoy, that was going to be a disaster, but it did put to rest any accusations of rigging the pairs as it was clear he dreaded it as much as the boys did. Brown and Zabini were at each other's throats before they found their new seats, Patil and Finnegan snapped at each other, Crabbe and Goyle somehow wound up together, both clueless without someone else to take charge, and _somehow_ Hermione and Parkinson still wound up together. Thomas and Nott were the only pair that worked well together.

_There will be no changing, trading, refusals of work or whinging! The hell have I fucking done? _Lucius Malfoy was certain to send him an unpleasant letter with thinly veiled threats. By the time the class ended only two pairs managed to forgo petty bickering to get work done. Hermione and Parkinson had successfully brewed an elixir of owl-sight using Hermione's methods to speed it along-which led to a smaller yield. Thomas and Nott nearly finished their calming solution, only needing brewing time, but no one else was even close. Potter and Longbottom weren't even the furthest behind. That honour went to Malfoy and Weasley while they sabotaged each other. _Why are first and second years paired in the first place? _

"You are all behaving like toddlers!" He seethed. "Don't like your partner? I promise you won't like every co-worker you have! If the first class next term is anything like this and I'll be assigning another two-roll essay. Since you are all so adverse to team work, I'll be assigning the essays individually, so don't think you can simply help each other. Am I understood?"

"Yessir," the class grumbled.

"I'll be forgoing both the punishment paper and the winning pair will still have to compose the original essay. This will be the last time I attempt a challenge like this. But unless I see blood on the floor, the pairings stick."

"I give it quarter of an hour," Weasley muttered earning him a snigger from Potter and an eyeroll from Hermione.

"Five points from Gryffindor for Mr. Weasley's highly inappropriate comment."

Groans and complaints echoed as the class let out and he set to work on ensuring everything was in order. Once the room was to his liking, which hadn't taken long at all, he decided to head upstairs. To the scent of pine and the sounds of angry childish voices spitting at each other. As he came up the stairs he found Hagrid, hidden by the massive pine he carried before him, and Weasley lunging at a smirking Malfoy while Potter and Hermione tried and failed to hold him back.

Weasley broke free of Potter's grasp as he dove, leaving the boy frazzled but in place.

"Don't let him pro-gah!" the momentum sent Hermione flying forward.

"WEASLEY!" he shouted.

That stopped the boy.

"Fighting, Weasley?" he sneered.

"He was provoked, Professor," Hagrid offered. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Provoked or not, fighting is still against the rules," he sighed. "That'll be another five points, Weasley," he then pointed to Hermione. "And next time you find yourself so provoked, I'd listen to her rather than launch her in an indiscriminate direction!"

Weasley looked at Hermione, the tips of his ears turning pink as he realised what he did. Shame now beat anger as the rest of his face flushed and he turned his gaze to the floor. No consequences would make Weasley give a damn about attacking Malfoy, but he hoped the shame of dragging someone who he claimed was his friend into it and potentially bringing her harm was all-consuming.

A hope that was dashed swiftly as Hermione spoke: "It's fine, Ron, really! I'm not so fragile I can't take a short fall!"

"Get where you're going, the lot of you!" he snarled."_Not you!_" he hissed grabbing Hermione's arm before she before she could leave.

Everyone filed out, going to wherever they were headed leaving the two alone.

"Would you like to tell me just what the hell you were thinking?" his eyes scanned her for obvious injuries and found none. _At least you seem fine._ "Have you lost your damn mind?"

"Oh, Probably," she sighed folding her arms. "Why do you think I've gone mad this time?"

"_Hermione Elizabeth!"_ he snapped. "What is _wrong _with you?" _And where the hell is this coming from?_

"I don't know," she hissed. "My own father thinking I've 'lost my damn mind' might have something to do with it!"

"_This _conversation again?!" he seethed. "Must you interpret every criticism of your lapses of judgement as accusations you've gone mad? Perhaps you think I should leave you to your self-destructive behaviour in peace?"

"_Self-destructive?_" Hermione scoffed.

"If you're looking for examples I have plenty!" he snapped. "You nearly got yourself _killed _by a troll, sneaking around at night, nosing through the business of adults and now you're throwing yourself into fights!"

"I was trying to _stop_ Ron, Dad!" she argued. "I fail to see how-"

"You dove into a fight, Hermione!" he yelled. "I don't care how noble you think your motives were. Have you any idea how reckless that was?"

"For the-" Hermione slapped her forehead. "Nothing would have happened to me!"

"I'm not so confident you aren't stupid enough to dive between them to stop them!"

"Maybe I am!" Hermione hissed. "I'm just a pathetically naive, stupid little girl who lost her damn mind!"

Did the girl keep a bloody record everything he said to her while chastising her? She glared at him, her tiny shoulders near shaking with rage. Tears sprang to her eyes in some mixture of anger and hurt and it was now apparent why she was avoiding him. _I s__hould be surprised this didn't happen sooner, stupid piece of shit!  
_

"Hermione," he sighed trying to level his voice. _You're the_ _adult_... "The problem is your poor sense of judgement, not you. _However, _it should not be too much to ask for you to think for a _second_ before doing something reckless! If you have the ability to recall every damn word I've said to you, I'm certain you can consider the consequences of your actions."

"I'm not sure I do recall _every _word," Hermione glared at him.

_Did she find out? _He wondered. If no one else knew, how the hell could she know? Were there gaps removing Quirrell's suspicious behaviour left? Did he read somewhere that straining to remember things removed could cause a headache? Maybe Pomfrey found out...but how? If no one else knew, what could have prompted her to try to remember? Maybe she thought his orders to stay in her dormitory when not in class or detention were suspect? All he knew was that she was upset and blamed him for it. If his suspicions were right, she had every right to. "I'm not sure I take your meaning, little girl," he replied coolly.

"It doesn't matter," she sighed losing what resolve she had, returning her gaze to the floor and, again digging her damn nails into her hands.

"Which is why you're so upset?" he asked softening his voice and resting a hand on her head. "Clearly, it does matter. _Talk_ to me, love."

Silence. Whatever she had wanted to accuse him of, she had changed her mind. She didn't even look at him, her gaze stayed on the ground as if waiting for it to swallow her. She dug her nails in deeper to her hands and she chewed her lip. Regret knotted his throat as he mentally ran over a million different ways this could have been better handled.

Not just this conversation, but also erasing her memory. If she found out she would have every right to never trust him. He saw it now for what it was, a stupid mistake that he could never undo. Hermione paid the price for it... _Stupid piece of shit..._

"I imagine you'll be wanting to catch up with the Weasleys before they go for the holidays," he sighed. "I have things I need to do. Just be more careful, okay, love?"

"Yessir," her voice cracked as she nodded.

She was gone and he wondered just how to repair things between them, or if he ever could.

* * *

"We should hit the library," Hermione said as they left Hagrid's.

"Yer holidays are just startin'," Hagrid chuckled. "Bit keen aren' ya three?"

The three of them exchanged glances and Hermione saw the familiar owl flying overhead. _Damn,_ she thought. She cut off Harry before he spoke. "It's one of _very _few places on my father's list of acceptable places for me to be in when out of classes," she forced a bitter laugh. "We're making the most of it before it closes and I'm stuck in the tower all holiday. I'm not even supposed to be here."

_Does Archimedes have a way to communicate I was here?_

"He really _is _a paranoid prat, isn't he?" Ron scoffed. "What does he expect to happen to you, anyway?"

"Hey!" Hermione elbowed him. "He may be a paranoid prat, but he's _my _paranoid prat! Only _I_ get to say that!"

The three burst into laughter before Hermione noted the owl flying back to the school. She turned back to Hagird, who now wore a grim expression. He lowered himself to be eye-level with the three and whispered. "Jus' promise me yer not meddlin' anymore inter, erm, tha' stuff."

"Of course we're not," Ron said before a guilt ridden Harry or Hermione could give it away. "Hermione says she'll be pulled out if she steps a toe out of line, so we're all behaving."

"Ge' goin' then," Hagrid's warm smiled returned. "I'd hate ter be the reason little Hermione is pulled out."

"'little Hermione'?" Ron teased as they reached the library.

"Shut up, Ron," she sighed opening a book.

"How?" Harry groaned after an hour of combing over the books. "How is there _nothing _on Nicholas Flammel or the philosopher's stone?"

"I don't know!" Hermione moaned hitting her head to the desk. "I was certain I read _something_ about him before. It's like the Pince took every mention of it from the library!"

"Do you remember anything?" Ron asked. "Anything at all?"

Hermione raised her head just enough to shake it before returning to her face-plant. "I'm so, so sorry!"

"Wait..." Harry mused. "If Pince was instructed to hide every mention of it do you think it would be in..."

"The restricted section!" the three all whispered at the same time.

"Let's get out of here before I'm discovered," Hermione whispered watching Pince make her rounds. "I'm not _actually_ supposed to be out of the tower."

* * *

"When are you and your brothers leaving?" Hermione asked later that night over the chess board in the common room. She _was _terrible at this game.

"We're not," Ron looked down at the white king he claimed sadly. "Mum and Dad are visiting Charlie in Romania. So we're staying behind."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ron," she bit her lip. She recognized that unwanted look in his eyes.

"I was going to ask Mum or Dad about Nicholas Flammel and everything," he sighed. "But you can ask your mum when you visit her, right?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Should be safe to ask her."

"Oh, it'll be perfectly safe," Hermione scoffed with an eyeroll. "Considering she doesn't exist!"

"Wait..." both said before exchanging an awkward glance.

"_You _exist..." Ron choked.

_So you really thought I had a mother? _"I mean, erm," Hermione blundered. "Yeah, there had to be a woman who gave birth to me, but I haven't the foggiest on who she might be. It's just been me and my Dad as long as I can remember..."

Ron's ear tips turned pink and Harry grimaced, turning his attention to the board.

"If I had a mother in the picture do you think I would have grew up in the school?"

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Harry said. "We didn't know."

"You never told us," Ron said.

_You never asked!_ "It's fine," Hermione smiled. "I'm certain you've heard the rumours. I figured you'd put it together from those existing."

"Like we'd believe you were found in a box of free kittens!" Ron rolled his eyes.

"Or that Snape made a love potion and charged the witch the resulting child!" Harry added.

"Or that a pregnant woman promised you in exchange for a single head of lettuce!" Ron laughed.

"I didn't hear that one!" Hermione chuckled. "Who the hell gives their child away for a head of lettuce?"

"What about the one where Snape had an affair with a student?" Harry asked.

"He'd have been sacked had that happened," she rolled her eyes. "And I was one when he started. Though those rumours are normally accompanied with me being a whole year younger than he claims I am."

"How about the one where he transfigured one of Mrs. Norris's kittens?" Ron suggest with a laugh. "Or the one where you were found in a Chinese take-away rubbish bin with a bunch of cat skeletons?"

That last one wasn't just cruel, but incredibly racist. Suddenly, Quirrell's kitten comment seemed a whole lot worse. Hermione's stomach churned, she didn't hear that one before either.

"I think there's one where he grew you out of a vat," Harry mused. "And one where he found you in a shipwreck."

"What about the one where Snape dosed a woman with a love potion for years and she abandoned him the minute she came to!" Ron laughed again.

_It wasn't just him she abandoned!_ Hermione wanted to cry. But she didn't even know if that one was true. If it was at all true than the dream version of her mother was accurate in one respect. She wanted nothing to do with Hermione. The boys riddled off a few more ridiculous rumours they've heard ranging from fairy-tale bullshit to international crimes having a good hardy laugh at her father without caring that she was the humanbeing on the other end of those rumours. What did it matter, they had their laugh at the teacher who made them miserable. Hermione didn't know if she wanted to cry or vomit.

"Hermione?" Harry looked at her with that damn pitying look. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she choked covering her face with her hair. _Don't let them see you cry. Weakness will be attacked._

"You sure?" Ron asked. "You look terrible."

"I'm aware I'm ugly, Ron," Hermione tried to snap, but it sounded more like a squeak.

"That's not what I meant," Ron groaned. "You look sick. Pale."

"Just a headache," she lied. "I'm going to bed."

* * *

"Are you absolutely certain that's where you want it, headmaster?" Severus asked. "We can place it as soon as we acquire it. I don't like the idea of the _Mirror of Erised _just sitting where anyone can get to it."

Dumbledore stroked his long white beard and peered at him over his half-moon glasses with a knowing smile. _Damn that knowing smile. Let me in on the plan...I'm not a child._

"Severus," he chuckled. "I understand your concerns, but there are parts of the plan only I can be privy to. I'm certain you understand why?"

He did. Everyone protecting the stone only had pieces of the plans. Originally everyone was only supposed to know their task, but changes were made to accommodate placement and they were divided into teams of four, subdivided into two. He wondered why _he _was the one Dumbledore was trusting with the mirror, but he remained quiet while honour and annoyance warred within him. The Flammels were fine with destroying the stone. They should just destroy it!

"I want it on the same floor as the library," Dumbledore explained. "You'll place it tonight, and keep watch tomorrow night for Quirrell."

"Keep watch for Quirrell..." he said slowly. "Does that mean you believe me? Headmaster, if this is all an elaborate trap can't we do something less risky? If you believe he attacked Potter can't you just sack him?"

"Keep your enemies closer, Severus," Dumbledore stroked his beard again. "He'll do less damage under our watch than out in the world."

"THE MAN THREATENED MY DAUGHTER!" Severus roared forgetting himself for a moment.

"Hermione is under my watch as well, I assure you," Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "No harm will come to her."

"Oh, the same way no harm will come to Potter?" he scoffed. "Because we know how well that worked out."

"Severus," Dumbledore warned. "I promise nothing will happen to Hermione."

"If anything happens to her..."

"Nothing will happen," he repeated.

"I should have transferred her to another school..." he said. "But it's too late now. If you promise me she'll be safe, I'll trust you."

That night he was tasked with placing the mirror in a classroom across from the library and he kept doing perimeter checks as he positioned the mirror. The dark corridors were dead quiet, his shoes echoing off the stone floor and he suddenly appreciated Hermione's instinct to go barefoot all those mornings. Had it not been so bloody cold he might have done the same. At least he didn't have light from his wand to bounce off the walls. Needing to levitate the massive mirror to move it, Severus opted for an elixir of owl-sight to see.

Exhausted but undisturbed, he entered the empty classroom and set the mirror against a wall. There. All he had to do now was cover the bloody thing and go to bed. He grabbed the white linen cloth and approached the mirror, ignoring the burning curiosity. _I don't want to know! If it's Lily and not my child...what would that mean? I can't...but maybe I should know..._

The hesitation cost him his ignorance. There in the mirror, he saw himself, tall, thin, pale and greasy hair with his large hooked nose, apparently he had no desire to be attractive, but on either side of him stood the two most important people in his life. A healthier, younger version of Hermione hung from his hand, beaming, her large brown eyes staring up at him with complete trust. On his other side, Lily rested her head on his shoulder, clinging to his arm, her bright green eyes sparkling with contentment. Both were so happy, and both trusted him completely.

Mirror Lily bent to pick up Mirror Hermione and the two nuzzled into his chest, smiling. Lily would have been a great mother...to Potter. This was fake, this was fake, this was fake! Hermione was a hell of a lot older than four, and Lily was dead. Before Lily died she wanted nothing to do with him, which he himself was at fault for! The happy little lie in the mirror was just that! A lie!

Severus tore his eyes from the mirror and threw the cover over it before he could be drawn in again.

* * *

"Dad?" Hermione waved a hand in front of his face.

"Sorry, love," he said finding his keys. "What was that?"

"I was just asking if you were okay," Hermione took his hand. "Are you?"

"You worry too much, little girl," he sighed.

With a sigh the three of them entered the run-down house on Spinner's End and Severus felt a knot form in his stomach.

"I should just leave the damn thing to rot!" he grumbled.

"It's one month, Sev," Lily rolled her eyes and smiled. "We'll fix the place up and sell it. When you and our little gambler run off to school, if we still haven't sold it, I'll continue trying."

Every detail of his childhood home was identical as it was the day he left. Ramshackle bookshelves, a small kitchen table his mother cowered under during his father's rages, dents in the plaster, and smoke stained walls. He swore he still smelt the booze in the livingroom and kitchen. He didn't want to stay for a second let alone a month.

"Where is Hermione?" he asked noting she was inexplicably gone.

He turned back to meet Lily and she too had vanished.

"Lily?" he called. "Hermione?"

He lingered at the foot of the stairs as a thousand memories flooded his mind. Not a single one of them pleasant._ It's just a damn_ house. He climbed the stairs still skipping the third step that always creaked announcing his presence, as if either of them were still alive to cause trouble. _Find your family and leave...let the damn house burn._

He paused again at muffled voices at the door to his childhood room. That was the last place he wanted to go. He took a deep breath and drew his wand, resting a shaking hand on the doorknob. He hadn't been back since he was seventeen. Not since..._Fuck it!_ he opened the door and nearly dropped his wand.

"So he finally makes his appearance!" Eileen rolled her eyes, putting out her cigarette.

None of this was real. It suddenly came back to him, Lily never married him, she married Potter, had a son and was murdered...because of him. The marriage, return to his house, his mother standing there. This was all fake! Not that it stopped the blood from freezing in his veins as he watched his mother run her hand through Hermione's hair.

"Hermione," he breathed. "Come here. Now."

"Calm down, Severus," she snapped. "I have every right to meet my own granddaughter! He's _always _been a complete ingrate. He was such an insufferable child!"

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"After everything I've gone through, too!" Eileen collapsed dramatically on the bed. "Tell me, darling boy, why does this girl have two middle names and neither are mine? Do I mean so little to you?"

Severus opened his mouth to speak but his mother's icy voice continued before he could.

"Of course I do!" she cried. "That's why you abandoned me with your monster of a father! That's why you named your _stolen_ child after your school crush and what she said _she_'_d_ name her daughter if she had one!" she laughed bitterly pulling Hermione into her lap. "Can you believe it, darling? After everything I've done for your miserable father, he abandons me and does everything he can to forget I ever existed!"

"You didn't _really _abandon her," Hermione choked. "Did you?"

"Are you going to lie to her again?" she challenged before turning back to Hermione. "This was your father's bedroom," she pointed to the window. "That's the window he snuck out of when when your idiot grandfather had his little tantrums. A very stupid little boy, indeed. And a coward!" she pointed again, this time to a closet. "Oh, and there's the closet I died in after your pathetic father left me all alone. No cheeky response, Severus? Perhaps it's because you know I'm right."

"Oh my, Sev," Lily said appearing behind his mother, her green eyes aflame and face contorted in anger. "Is there a single person you've claimed to love that you didn't destroy?"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"It's your father's fault I'm dead," Lily's angry eyes didn't leave him.

"Join the club, girl," Eileen said bitterly.

"I did nothing to you!" he snapped. "I was a child!"

"You _left_!" she seethed. "But then again, you never could think about the consequences of your actions for even a second, could you?"

"I might be alive if he could," Lily scoffed. "I wonder what he'll do to you."

"He's already destroyed me," Hermione sighed. "Or are you still telling yourself it was a couple I never met?"

* * *

"I'm surprised the Weasley twins haven't started a gambling ring with you," her father smiled ruffling her hair.

_Pretend this is normal, _Hermione told herself. _Christmas with your father. Your father who tried to kill your best friend and erased your memory. Perfectly normal!_ "Yeah," she shrugged. "I turned down the offer when I noticed Archimedes tailing me. Maybe next year."

"And that's another four years before retiring the nanny-owl," he said gathering the cards. "So you survived first-term. How do you feel?"

_Like I'm going to die. _"Alright, just hoping 'survive' isn't the word we use next term," she forced a laugh. _Act natural._

"You seem ill-at-ease," he noted raising his eyebrow.

How stupid was it that Hermione wanted to tell him everything? That she wanted to turn to him for comfort and advice when _he _was the problem? Not that his particular brand of comfort or advice was particularly useful!

"Just tired," she shrugged again. "We were trying this Japanese game Hiro told me about and by time we got the rules straight and we got through a round we noticed the sun was coming up. Apparently I'm not the only obsessive one. You don't look like you've gotten much sleep yourself?"

That was true, his black eyes were once again ringed and his face had even less colour than usual. Thin, disheveled and confused. _Who does that remind you of? We're both losing sleep over this. _

"First Christmas Eve alone," he said, she didn't think she believed him. "It was strange. Quiet though, that was nice."

"Am I so loud?" she asked.

"You talk to the owl, like he's a person," he smirked. "Tell me, should I be worried?"

"I think he's on to us, Archimedes!" Hermione dramatically whispered.

"So the answer is yes?"

"In my defence, are you ever _not_ worried?"

"Sorry, love," he rested his hand on her head again. "The instant we become parents that's all we're capable of."

"I had no idea all parents were so paranoid," Hermione mused.

"Cautious," he corrected.

A silence passed between them and Hermione bit her nails trying to think of things to do or say. Curiosity burned at her mind and she wished desperately she could ask him about Flammel, or the stone, or why he tried to kill Harry...She bit her lip to avoid muttering to herself. Maybe if she found out who let the troll in, maybe she could clear him somehow...

"Everything alright, love?"

"Did anyone ever find out how the troll got in?" she asked. "It's odd isn't it? That a troll just happens to get in the year you lot hid something valuable on the third floor?"

"Hermione," her father warned.

"Right," Hermione bit her lip nervously, "Sorry!"

"I can't say I'm not surprised," he sighed placing a hand on her head. "Curiosity has always been a weakness of yours."

"I thought it was pity," Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Hermione!"

She bit her lip again and fixed her eyes on her clasped hands in her lap. She was supposed to act normal, but she had no clue how to do that. This was the eleventh Christmas she spent with her father, yet she forgot exactly how she acted with him before…He was her father. She trusted him, at least she trusted him sometimes, and he erased her memory then tried to kill her best friend. She didn't even know what normal was anymore.

_Please_, she begged of every higher power she'd ever read of,_ please let me be wrong_. But she didn't believe that anymore. She could pretend she was friends with Pansy, she could pretend she wasn't hurt by her friends' and classmates' comments, but she couldn't pretend she was at all at ease with her father. She wondered if she ever could…

"You've been living inside that little head of yours for weeks now," he cupped her face and lifted it so she couldn't avoid eye-contact. Since she was small she couldn't stand those black eyes staring into hers with that familiar mixture of anger, concern and pity. "Have you spent the last two months on this? I suppose you think Potter's broomstick mishap is involved as well?"

Hermione wished she could avert her gaze, but instead all she could do was dig her nails harder into the back of her hands and steady her breath.

"I see," he sighed. "Just what do you imagine an eleven-year-old girl can figure out that a group of adults can't?"

"Erm," she began and bit her lip. _Idiot! I shouldn't have said a damn thing! He's probably going to erase my memory again!_

"Hermione," he moved his arm around her shoulder. "Nothing is going to happen. Whatever you're concerned about the other professors and I have this handled. And I do believe there are more appropriate matters for you to attend to," he mused and Hermione braced for the subject change, almost grateful for it. "How is the subject _I _teach _your _worst subject?"

"I've gotten nearly perfect scores on everything," Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I don't have a single score under 98% in any of my classes. Save that 95% from you."

"Unlike the other professors," he said. "I'm not impressed that you're literate and happen to know where the library is located. I know you can do better."

Hermione swore in Elvish under her breath. _What is _wrong _with you? Why is this bothering you? Your father tried to kill your best friend. _

"Language!" he snapped.

"Elvish," she shrugged.

"That was cute when you were four, but I expect you know better now."

"You have no clue if I was swearing or not," Hermione sighed. "You assumed because I was speaking a language you don't. For example, _yare yare_ isn't taboo in Japanese. It's just a phrase of exasperation."

"And the phrase you used now?"

"You know, Elvish is a _very _context specific language," she gave a nervous laugh.

She never did get proof of his innocence, but she was able to pretend things were fine for the rest of the day. To her relief, he didn't modify her memory, perhaps because she didn't implicate him, or because she was willing to pretend she never brought it up. She didn't know, but he seemed as distracted as she was as they broke into Twenty Questions and cards again. Did he suspect she was on to him? Maybe she should just have been happy to have no further mention of jinxed broomsticks or trolls.

"It's getting late," her father mentioned checking his watch. "Let's get you back to your dormitory, eh?"

_I can walk myself..._ but instead she nodded with a smile "Ready when you are."

That night Harry showed told Hermione under his breath about his invisibility cloak ("Don't let Fred and George know!" Hermione and Ron teased.) and Hermione wondered about how his father got ahold of one and who would have kept it on Harry's father's behalf or why they were giving it up now. Harry and Ron both hadn't any answers to these questions. They joined the other Weasleys for a game of Exploding Snap before bed, Hermione purposefully losing a few rounds at the beginning to demolish them later on.

"Is this payback for chess?" Ron asked.

"Payback? Me?" Hermione asked innocently. "I'm a nightmare, Ron, not a vindictive monster!"

"How long are you going to torment me for that?"

"Endlessly," Hermione smirked.

The five of them broke into laughter and Hermione broke into a yawn, stretching. She excused herself to the girls' dormitory and wrote the day's events in precise detail in her journal, she was not going to forget a damn thing. Then she took out a small vile she kept under her bed. Precisely one dose of elixir of owl-sight. Lumos could be found, light bouncing off the walls, a lamp would be stupid. If she was going to break into the library, this was what she needed. She still had to be careful, or rigging her fathers pairs so she and Pansy would be assigned the owl-sight elixir would have all been for naught. Though after that last disastrous class she wish she rigged all the pairs...

At midnight Hermione drank the elixir and crept barefoot to the library. She dodged Filch a couple times, and managed to find her way to the entrance without incident. She melted into the shadows, shrinking along the walls and bookshelves until she reached the Restricted Section.

"Alohamora," she whispered, jealous of the ability to cast silently.

She snuck in and made her way through the towering stacks with her colourless but amplified sights set on Artifacts, Alchemy and Famed Wizards. She started with dark artifacts. She hadn't one mention of the stone or Flammel after combing skimming through the table of contents and footnotes of twenty books. She had however come across mention of something called horcruxes and her stomach churned. Who would split their soul...

She shuddered and placed the books back as she turned to alchemy. It was a far cry, but some artifacts were either made via alchemy or were desired because of alchemy. She scanned the spines and spotted a promising book _Alchemical Artifacts: Use and Creation. _She stood on frozen tip-toes to pull it from a shelf when a scream shattered the silence.

Hermione froze. Who screamed, who else was in here with her? _Move, Hermione! You're needed! Go!_ But she had to force her feet to move. Once she built momentum she found the ability to fly in the direction of the scream and glass shattering.

She found at her feet a dropped book and shattered lamp, but no one accompanying it. She drew her wand and spun around looking for the culprit, ready to defend herself when a hand grabbed her wand arm and another clapped over her hand. Hermione's heart pounded as she found herself being dragged behind a bookshelf and underneath a strange veil.

"Shh!" a voice hissed.

Hermione struggled to free herself but only achieved facing the green bespectacled eyes of her captor.

Harry moved his hand from her mouth and pressed a finger to his lips. Hermione nodded and the two of them crept back.

"Professor?" they heard Filch's voice. "You asked me to come straight to you if anyone was milling about at night?"

Hermione's heart returned to it's horrified thudding as she heard her father's voice reply. "The library? They can't have gone far."

The two sped into an empty classroom and waited for the footsteps to pass. Hermione no longer held any suspicion for the invisibility cloak. She couldn't tell if she was lucky or unlucky for Harry to have been there. But for now, she was just happy she wasn't going to spend another eleven years locked in a room "for her own protection".

"What's that?" Harry asked pointing at the gold-framed mirror in the centre of the mirror.

Hermione examined the words on the frame. _Bloody anagrams. _ It read _The Mirror of Erised _and she couldn't be certain, but she thought the text below it in scrambled letters read _be careful what you wish for_. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and gooseflesh rose on her arms. "Harry, don't!" she hissed trying to hold him back.

It was too late. Harry had lifted the protective cover of the invisibility cloak from them and stood at the mirror. Leaning in close he examined it, she wasn't sure, but she thought his eyes glistened and his face paled. A weak smile broke on his face, and he touched his shoulder as if touching another's hand.

"It's not real," Hermione whispered.

"Hermione," he said with a broken voice. "I-it's my parents."

"Harry, I don't think..."

Hermione bit her lip. How could she drag him from his dead parents? But she had too. She threatened to leave without him. Eventually, Harry did break away and the two made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

The next night Hermione tried to stop Ron and Harry from making their journey to the cursed mirror. When she failed to stop them she followed them and she wished she didn't. She shushed Ron who moaned about his cold feet, despite the slippers she'd told the boys to ditch, and under the light of her wand she could see the blue beds of her toenails. She, in turn, was hushed by her insistence that this was a bad idea and they were faced with the gold mirror glinting in the moonlight, beckoning each of them forward.

"I don't see anything but you, Harry," Ron said, sharing a concerned look with Hermione.

"Harry," Hermione spoke. "I, erm, look, it's, erm, hard to hear, but please, it's an illusion."

"Maybe if you two stand where I am?" Harry suggested pulling Ron to his spot.

"Ron, Harry, _please!"_ Hermione bit her lip.

"That's my-"

"I don't see your parents, Harry," Ron said.

Maybe it wouldn't curse him?

"I see myself, but different!" Ron explained his vision in great detail with excitement. To Harry's dismay he did not see either of their families, but instead, he saw himself as Head Boy, holding the quidditch cup. A desire Hermione did not expect him to have, Ron beamed at his imagined self before turning to Harry. "D'you think it shows the future?"

Hermione opened her mouth but Harry spoke first. "How could it? My parents are dead..."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed. "It's-"

"What do you think you'd see?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, come on then!" Ron agreed.

"No, I don't want to know!" Hermione backed up, but both boys had her arms and all but dragged her before the mirror.

She shut her eyes. "Whatever I see won't be real. I can't..."

Hermione opened her eyes. She didn't know what she expected, but she choked on a lump in her throat as she beheld her vision. _It's not real..._

The mirror rippled, as if it couldn't decide what to show her at first, split second images of a bushy-haired black woman and a short pale Asian man with eyes like hers were followed by an image of her father approving of something she'd done, then by her friends, including Hiro and Kaori, around her. It decided to settle on all of them, gathered around her, happy that she was in their lives. She had no idea what it was like to have someone be proud of her, or if anyone wanted her, but she suspected she felt that now. She was wanted...how pathetic of a desire was that? And did it take so long for the boys to see their images?

"We need to go," she choked.

"Come on," Ron groaned. "Tell us what you see!"

"Friends who don't drag me in front of cursed objects!" she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Let's get out of here."


	12. B1 Chapter 11: Hagrid's Dragon

The rest of the holiday progressed smoothly. Harry had finally been torn from the Mirror of Erised (backwards for desire! How could Hermione have been so stupid not to realise it?!) by Dumbledore himself, cautioning that he could waste away before it if he didn't leave. Apparently, the mirror only shifts and ebbs if the viewer doesn't know what they truly desire. So, Hermione spent the rest of the holiday wondering why they had such a dangerous artifact in the school and if she was broken. Who didn't know what they desired? Though their was a line of commonality. All she really craved was to be wanted. To be needed.

Hermione put it from her mind as she began with classes and her weekly exchanges with Hiro. The letters quickly returned to the only thing she could rely on as Harry and Ron continued to suspect her father, and her father's antagonism of the two hit an all time high, as if he knew they were on to him. The only thing outside of Hiro's letters that helped her pull through was her father lifting her detentions for the term on the condition she stay in the tower outside of class, meals and _group_ (he really emphasized that bit) studying in the library.

"Start o' term and already hittin' the books?" Hagrid smiled with a massive arm clutching a book.

"Yeah," Harry jerked a thumb in Hermione's direction. "Rapunzel ("Bless you!" Ron said) here can't leave the tower unless it's here."

"Harry!" Hermione seethed. "We want to be prepared for exams, Hagrid. What're you up to?"

"Jus' a little bit o' readin' is all," Hagrid said, flummoxed. "You lot aren' still on tha' Flammel nonsense, are yea?"

Hermione brandished the batter copy of _Goblin Rebellions of the Thirteenth Century. _"Not exactly secrets of powerful objects or obscure wizards."

Harry shot a glance at Hermione that screamed 'he might help'. Did he not know that grown-ups were useless? Hermione longed for the days she could be so naive as to trust an adult.

"He was definitely hiding something," Harry closed his book.

"Let's look around and see what he was reading," Ron said.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had very different methods of searching for the book. Ron plucked books seemingly at Random from where Hagrid emerged, Hermione searched by likely topics and Harry met them somewhere in the middle. Plucking books from the section, combing the table of contents and reshelving before he pointed out exactly what all these books had in common.

"Caring for and breeding dragons," Harry whispered.

Hermione slapped her forehead. "Hagrid always loved dragons!"

"Relax, Hermione," Ron assured her. "It's illegal in Britain to keep dragons. And most are highly endangered."

"Wait," Harry whispered. "There are _wild _dragons in Britain?"

"Yeah, there's wild dragons everywhere." Ron said. "Charlie rescues and re-wilds dragons in Romania."

The three went to see Hagrid, Hermione glancing around for an owl or her father, happy that they seemed to both be better occupied, allowing Hermione to disappear between both boys.

"Hagrid!" Harry said when Hagrid opened the door, sending a wave of heat over them.

"Hermione isn' supposed to be here," Hagrid grumbled shooing them off. "You lookin' to get pulled ou'?"

"Hasn't stopped you before," Ron said. "And we know-"

"We know what you're up to," Harry whispered. "A dragon?"

Hagrid glanced around and ushered them into the broiling hut, sitting each of them down, Hermione perched herself on a barrell far from the window and close to the lit fireplace.

"That's a Norwegian Ridgeback egg!" Ron gasped before Hermione could at the sight of the egg sitting in the pot.

Hagrid explained everything, what he was reading, how he had to hatch the egg and why the hut was so damn hot. His little wooden hut had to be kept so hot, Hermione felt like he would set his home ablaze. Then she thought about what Ron said. Norwegian Ridgebacks were incredibly endangered. Keeping dragons were illegal...

"How'd you get the egg?" Hermione asked. "It's not like you could go to a _legal _menagerie..."

"Erm," Hagrid toyed with his black bushy beard, averting his eyes.

"_Hagrid!_" Hermione gasped. "What did you _do_?"

"Your father will have my head if he finds out I-"

"Hagrid," Ron cut him off. "If you don't tell us we'll find out. And you know how good we are at it."

A silence joined the smoke in choking the normally cozy hut's atmosphere, the three of them casting interrogating gazes on Hagrid, whose black eyes glistened either from smoke irritation or shame. Hermione came to his side and held his hand, looking into his eyes with an encouraging smile. "Your secret's safe with us. _Please _tell us?" She ignored the smoke as she put on her best 'baby unicorn' face.

"I won him in a match o'er at the Hogshead," he whispered. "Promise you won' tell anyone?"

* * *

"I'll do it," Severus volunteered to slack jaws in the staffroom.

"You _hate_ Quidditch," McGonagall observed.

"And you said I have to get involved in extracurriculars," he reminded the stone-faced woman. "I'd sooner referee one of four matches in the year than waste my time with a club that no one will join."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus," Professor Sprout said. "I'm sure _someone_ would join..."

"If you don't want me to do it," Severus started leaning back in his chair. "We could always dispense with the mandate that teachers involve themselves with such nonsense. A number of teachers don't involve themselves with it as is."

His coworkers exchanged glances with each other, some with their lips pressed into hard frustrated lines, others wondering why they'd been involved in heading clubs to begin with. Some frusterated that the rules didn't apply equally to all. Quirrell was exempt, being his first year back in a long time, Binns headed a history club attended by no one, Trelawney made no effort and they all approved of anything that kept her from the students, and Severus had been exempt till Hermione started school. He was supposed to have involved himself long before now, but no one (save McGonagall) cared enough to remind him.

"Do we have a literature club?" Flitwick mused.

"After years of turning down proposals of _Son of Hermes_ clubs we should not open that door," Severus muttered to agreements from the other teachers. It was not often he had been met with nods from his colleagues.

"If you're looking to cost Gryffindor their chance at the cup, Severus," McGonagall warned.

"Minerva," Dumbledore sighed peering knowingly over his glasses at him. "I'm certain Severus is only trying to meet his requirements. And wouldn't dream of purposefully rigging a match his daughter's house is in."

"Indeed," he sighed lazily. "If I wanted to give her another reason not to talk to me, I would be much more creative."

So volunteering to referee the next match didn't make him popular, but at least he could be certain Quirrell wouldn't try that stunt again. And if he did, Severus's counterspell would be much more effective as he was closer.

* * *

"It's hatching!" Hermione squealed. "Oh, but we have herbology! Ugh!"

"Hermione," Ron said. "When will we ever see a _dragon_ hatch? We can do herbology any old time!"

"But what if we fall behind?" Hermione asked with a stomach churn. _He is right though..._

"We'll do the readings on our own," Harry assured her. "This is going to be fantastic!"

"Attendance..." Hermione bit her lip. "We've got to come up with some reason all three of us were gone...or my father..."

The three of them mused and before reaching a decision on how they could both be marked on the register and see the dragon hatched. All they had to do was adhere to their parts.

"Professor Sprout!" Hermione raised her hand interrupting her call of the register.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm not feeling well, might I be excused?" she asked feigning weakness.

"Of course, dear," she nodded. "I'm sure your friends can help you catch up when they visit you after.. You can walk yourself right?"

"I don't know..." Hermione moaned. _Nuclear option_. She placed her head in one of the clay pots and made herself sick.

"Oh, oh dear," Sprout rushed to her side. "Come along..."

"Erm, Professor?" Harry said wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulder. "Ron and I can take her. No need to stop the class, right?"

Hermione was certain if she lifted her head she would catch seventeen pairs of eyes glaring daggers at him.

"Both of you boys?" she asked.

"We'll get her looked after!" Ron said slinging one of her arms over his shoulders. "We'll see Neville for notes. Cheers!"

"I can't believe that worked!" Ron hissed in her ear as they got to Hagrid's hut.

"It's us!" Harry whispered and the three of them were ushered back into the sweltering hut.

Harry, Ron and Hermione craned their necks over the kettle to watch the fractures form in the stony egg. A tiny black claw picked its way out of the shell and an enormous lamp yellow eye stared at them. Hagrid cooed and urged the little dragon out. A black, scaly form slinked out of the egg and curled up cat like on the coals, staring at Hagrid to a "He knows his mummy!"

"Brilliant!" Harry and Ron gasped.

"He's adorable!" Hermione squeaked.

"Are you and Hagrid both mental?" Ron asked. "It's a firebreathing _dragon._"

"Norbert is a jus' a baby, Ron."

"But Ron is right..." Hermione sighed, her smile fading. "This isn't the best place for a growing dragon."

"Norbert is too young to go anywhere else. Look at him!"

He did look helpless, and Hermione was torn between knowing this was a terrible idea and wanting to hold him.

Harry, Ron and Hermione tried to convince Hagrid that he had to do what was best for him, but Hagrid being Hagird insisted that he loved the little dragon and would do anything for him, and sending him away was not for the best. Hermione wanted to make some comments on his feelings didn't matter if Norman didn't have room to breathe, but it wasn't Hagrid who needed to hear that.

Giving up, the three turned to leave spotting a pale, pointed face peering at them through the window.

"_Get out of here!"_ Hagrid shouted at Malfoy and left Harry, Ron and Hermione wondering how they could fix it.

"Charlie?" Harry mused casting a meaningful look.

"Have you gone mad too, I'm Ron."

"No!" Harry said. "Charlie can take him, right?"

"All we have to do is keep Malfoy's mouth shut!"

* * *

"It's too late to write Charlie!" Ron huffed from the hospital bed.

Hermione's eyes fixed on Ron's green hand seeping puss and she hoped that the 'no questions' clause Pomfrey offered her father extended to him. It was obvious it was a dragon bite. Even worse, they now knew the reason for Malfoy's silence, and it was _not _the uneasy cease fire Hermione enjoyed with the Slytherins. He wanted to catch them in the act.

"I can't believe I so stupid as to leave the letter in that book!" he moaned.

"Think about it," Hermione said, not particularly believing it herself. "Malfoy will need proof, and he would have to tip off professors off in a way that doesn't suggest he kept it too himself."

"I'm not eaves dropping!" an exasperated voice announced behind her. "So you can save your breath, Potter."

Hermione turned to see none other than Pansy Parkinson clasping a book to her chest with one arm, her other hand grasping her arm. "You promised you would meet me at the library!"

"Right, sorry!" she turned back to Harry and Ron. "Sorry, guys, I-erm-I'll meet you in our common room, Harry. Feel better, Ron."

A quick pace to the library and Hermione and Pansy were pouring over books while whispering back and forth. Pansy's brown eyes combed over the library before leaning in.

"There have been no notices on our common room bulletin," she whispered. "But Professor Snape has agreed to referee the next Quidditch match. I haven't seen or heard anything else strange though."

Pansy wasn't the best eyes, but she was the only eyes Hermione could get in the Slytherin common room. Not that she thought her father would give away his scheme to his house, but she _did_ think they were uniquely in position to see anything out of character. Like agreeing to referee a Quidditch match...Did he want to ensure he'd be able to kill Harry? He _hated _the sport. What other reason could he possibly have? Hermione had to tell Harry not to play. But how?

"My father _hates_ Quidditch," she whispered back. "Did you find out why?"

Pansy shook her head. "All the upper years say so too. That weird boy O'Malley says it might because teachers have to take part in clubs and athletics."

"I see," Hermione mused before she dug two rolls of parchment out of her bag. "As promised."

"You have my hand writing down to a tee!" she said in amazement. "That McGonagall will die of shock when she reads this!"

Hermione bit her tongue, telling her that she would be fine if she just paid attention would do no good. She needed Pansy as eyes around the castle. Her father would never suspect her, and she turned no heads, where Harry, Ron, Fred and George would.

"I've also been tailing Quivering Quirrell," Pansy sighed bored. "You were right, he likes to spend _a lot_ of time around the third-floor corridor. Keeps looking around, but I'm invisible to him. Professor Snape keeps close too, I don't know why. I'm sure you understand why I take off when he makes an appearance."

She did. Pansy was invisible to Quirrell, but not to the head of her house, and she would never keep out of sight.

"Though I'll give you this next piece of information for free since we're such good friends," both girls rolled their eyes. "Draco wants to alert McGonagall tonight about your little escapade. He's been bragging about how he'll finally get Potter expelled. Stay in the dormitory tonight. I think he might be able to."

"Tit for tat," Hermione whispered leaning in landing on a lie quickly. "We're not going anywhere. The whole dragon thing is just to get Malfoy in trouble. He won't be expelled, but detention and embarrassment will suffice. I got the idea from my favourite book."

"What book?"

"You know the scene in _Son of Hermes _where..." Hermione described the scene in detail and said that she'd forged Ron's letter from Charlie and that Ron was a willing sacrifice, applying a poison she'd swiped from her father's stores on his hand. All to get Malfoy in trouble. She was impressed with how her own story came together.

"Oh, Hermione," Pansy gave a surprising giggle. "I can't believe you! Naturally, I will have to tell Draco though."

"Poor Ron sacrificed so much," Hermione pouted.

"Oh, I'm leaving that bit out!" Pansy giggled again. "I won't be getting any more homework done if Professor Snape kills you!"

* * *

If they had more time, Hermione might have been able to work with Pansy's warning if she'd gotten it earlier. But at least they knew to keep their eyes out while they made their way to the astrology tower with a noisy crate between them. Out of habit Hermione ditched her shoes, but that didn't matter with Norbert ripping the head off his teddy and crying. _I know there's a silencing spell! Why can't I remember it?_ The sleeping draught she dosed him with did nothing and she cursed their luck.

Suddenly there was a silence from the crate and Harry exchanged a grateful look with Hermione. Maybe it just took longer to act, maybe he tired himself out by raising hell, Hermione didn't care. The weight between them became much easier to manage and they were more assured as they crept around the corridors that they'd be safe.

"What did you think you were doing?!"

Hermione's heart paused in her chest, and the blanched look on Harry's face suggested his did the same. They were hidden under an invisibility cloak, but McGonagall stood before them, nostrils flaring and beady eyes glaring in a hairnet and dressing gown. But it wasn't them she was looking at. It seemed Pansy either didn't tell Malfoy or didn't convince him. It was Malfoy she snapped at. Not them.

She clung to his ear chastising him and dismissing out of hand his claims that Harry and Hermione were skulking around the school with a dragon. Hermione's heart nearly leapt for joy until McGonagall hissed: "We shall see Professor Snape about this!"

If he were up, they'd have to be extra careful. Hermione could hear his threats to pull her out, or his venom 'I asked you to keep yourself safe, but I'm just your father, what the hell do I know?'. Mounting dread replaced the glee as they climbed the tower. Until she saw Charlie and two others standing with him.

Charlie Weasley stood tall with broad shoulders and signature Weasley flaming red-hair, almost intentionally messy, blue eyes and freckles splashed over his face. He seemed very well put-together and regarded them with little shock when they threw off the cloak.

"Hello, Harry, Hermione," he nodded with a smile.

"We have him all set for travel," Harry said. "Thank you so much for this."

"No problem," he said. "I always did like Hagrid. I promise he'll be in good hands. You can tell him we'll be writing him so he doesn't have to worry."

Hermione grabbed the cloak and they covered themselves with it, creeping down the stairs with baited breath. Harry whispered to her a couple times, but instead, he saw her shaking hand holding out light with her wand. He picked up on the severity of the situation and the two made their way down in silence. Hermione turned her thoughts to getting Harry out of the match. She was so distracted that she bumped into a calf high furry creature tripping over it. She tried to catch herself, but fell to the ground at a pair of brown shoes underneath a lamp and a sneer.

Harry did something both very brave and stupid, throwing the cloak off and standing next to her, hiding the cloak behind him. Hermione stared at him in horror. _Why sacrifice yourself? What are you planning? I'm not...worth it._

"We are in trouble, aren't we?" Filch sneered.

The two gulped facing each other and Hermione bit her lip as they followed Filch to McGonagall's office. McGonagall stood behind her desk, nostrils flaring opposite a shrinking Neville.

"Neville?" Hermione squeaked. "What-"

"He _also_ fell for your cock and bull story about a dragon!" McGonagall spat. "What were you doing? 3AM in the astrology tower? Was it worth it?"

Hermione stared at her barefeet recalling the story she gave Pansy. McGonagall guessed it though, making Hermione's story fit if Pansy were ever asked. Hermione simply nodded, Harry's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and he stared at her.

"I assume this was your idea, Potter?"

"It was mine!" Hermione squeaked. "I got the idea from a book I read. I, erm..." she turned to Neville. "I never meant for you to hear it. I'm so sorry!"

"I expected _you_ to have more sense than this!" McGonagall huffed before turning to address them all. "You three will be joining Malfoy in detention and I'll be deducting fifty points from each of you for your foolishness. And I _will _be speaking to your father about this!"

All because she couldn't be bothered looking where she was going! How could she have _been_ so stupid?! Hermione would be pulled out of classes for tripping over a damn cat! Her stomach churned and she dug her nails into her hands trying not to think about it. Tripping over Mrs. Norris! The only thing worse would be if they forgot the damn cloak, which Harry never would have! If Harry handled it by himself, she was certain nothing would have happened. This was all her fault.


	13. B1 Chapter 12: Meetings in the Forest

"She did _what_?!" Severus hissed fixing his eyes on the girl.

"I _never_ would have expected such behaviour from her!" McGonagall poked her black pudding. "I thought she had more sense than that..."

Hermione _did_ have more sense than that. If she wanted to set up Malfoy, she would have stayed behind as to not implicate herself. He turned his gaze to a rather sad looking Hagrid chasing his beans around his plate. If Hagrid truly had a dragon...that would make sense. The foolish girl would have leapt at the chance to help the man, and Potter seemed fond of him as well. Perhaps his anger should be directed at the adult that dragged the little idiots into it. How could he be so irresponsible?

"I shall have a talk with her," he said after McGonagall described the scenario in great detail. "Rest assured this will not happen again."

His eyes landed on Quirrell who fixed his gaze on Hermione and Potter who spoke in hushed voices to each other, both looking over their shoulders at every word. Maybe they were discussing the dragon, which Severus now felt was more real than Hermione had let on. How lucky were those two idiots that they didn't come across Quirrell? Who now seemed more distant and irritable. Were his plans going so awry?

He watched Hermione chase the twins out after admonishing Potter for something and he put his own fork down to meet her. He had to handle this with tact, there was no way he could threaten to pull her out again when this was supposed to be her last offense. He found the tiny girl speaking in hushed voices with the two boys who exchanged a quick glance.

"Do you think it's possible?" Hermione asked.

"We'll see what we can do," one twin said.

"But can you give us any more details?" the other asked.

Hermione shook her head, checked over her shoulder and spotted him standing behind her. She froze on the spot, the colour draining from her face and her eyes growing larger. She turned back to the twins who exchanged confused glances. Perhaps they didn't know which one he had chased down. Likely the twins were brewing some kind of mischief.

"You boys may leave," he sighed. "Whatever you're scheming is low on my list of priorities today."

"Yessir!" they both said before scampering off down the corridor.

"Follow me," he instructed once they were out of earshot.

How many times this year had he summoned Hermione to his office? He lost count, a natural people pleaser, he never had expected her to break so many rules. Yet in her first year she had given even James Potter a run for his money.

"The good news," he shut the door behind them. "Is that I have decided to not to pull you out of classes."

Hermione let out a drawn out breath, making him think she was holding her breath all the way down. "The bad news?"

"I don't believe Professor McGonagall's story," he said examining her scarred hands. "Not with Hagrid moping about the grounds and castle. I imagine he got his hands on a dragon and charged you and Potter with its rescue?"

Hermione choked and her eyes darted around the room before bringing her clasped hands up to her face and digging her nails into the gaps between her fingers, again. Behind her hands he thought she might be biting her lip. _Best not drag it out..._

"I don't expect details from you," he said. "Just tell me if I'm right. And you can put from your mind any legal ramifications. I've no intention of dealing with the burden of proof."

"Hagrid didn't charge us with it," Hermione squeaked in a small voice. "When w-_I_ found out _I_ volunteered to get the dragon to the right place. He was unsure if he wanted to accept it at first. I just didn't want him to get in trouble. You and I both know how poorly he would fair in Azkaban. Hagrid's fragile..."

"I see," he tried to keep his voice even. "Though when you and Potter volunteered to escort a dragon to safety, did it not cross your minds that any number of us would be equally upset at the prospect of Hagrid going to prison and eager to help him? Not to mention more capable than two eleven-year-olds?"

Hermione stared at her feet and he knew the answer to the question. One day, he'd cease to be surprised by the diminishing amount of trust she had in him. For now he put it from his mind and went back to the issue at hand.

"Hagrid should know better, but should this happen again," he thrummed his fingers on his desk. "I'm rather fond of the man, and so is the headmaster. Either one of us would have dealt with the issue at hand, with out putting ourselves at risk the way you two did. Honestly, Hermione, you should have come to me the minute you found out. It's not safe for you to be wandering about the castle at night. There are things you don't...that you _can't_ know."

Hermione's expression went from fearful to surprised to confused. Her posture relaxed and she approached him, but with caution. "I, erm," she averted her gaze and paused after a few steps.

He gave her a moment, recognizing the nervous wringing of her hands. He didn't speak, but instead met her half way placing a hand gently on the top of her head and kneeling at her eye level. He waited and saw that look of trying to find the perfect words.

"What _can _I know?" she asked softly.

"I'm sorry, love," he sighed. "I can't trust you not to involve yourself if you know."

Something akin to realization crossed Hermione's face and he wondered what it was that made her back away from him. She spoke barely above a whisper, and her voice shook with cold horror.

"How can possibly you know that I would?"

"Hermione," he breathed. _How do I even start...? Fuck it. _"I _raised _you. I know how eager you are to jump into others' problems. You can't tell me you wouldn't, I've memorized every expression on that little face since you were the size of a k-since you were a baby."

Hermione regarded him with a palpable disappointment, her sad expression speaking volumes. He wasn't lying when he said she was easy to read. And Severus knew he blew his chance to regain a bit of trust. She _did _know, somehow, and she had given him the chance to admit it. _You should have come clean, you stupid piece of shit._

"No," her quiet voice broke again. "I-I didn't want to believe it..."

His muscles tensed and the lump in his throat returned along with a tightness in his chest. He wished once again he could take it all back. Keeping her on a short leash should have been enough to keep her from getting involved...No, the incident with the dragon never would have happened if that method worked. But neither did explaining it to her...she was determined to get herself killed, what the hell was he supposed to do? _Anything but erase her memory..._

"There were very complicated circumstances, love," he explained.

"_Complicated circumstances?!"_ Hermione cried.

He should have expected a reaction like that, how else could she possibly have taken it? They couldn't go back to pretending the other was ignorant. They'd both tipped their hands, and his search for words failed him. How could this get so out of hand? _She speaks French...you should have sent her to Beaux Batons...she never would have been involved then..._

Looking at his shaking, teary-eyed daughter, he knew that wasn't an option anymore. Erasing her memory again was off the table as well, he _never_ should have done it the first time. There was so much he failed to give her, she was entitled to her own memories. He wanted what was best for her, and he had no idea how to make that happen.

_For God's sake, _some part of him thought. _I just wanted to keep her safe...If she could just listen to me...no, no, it wasn't right. _The worst part was that it was all for not, Hermione wasn't any safer for having her memories altered. He thought that if he could just...it didn't matter.

"I _trusted _you!" she sobbed.

"Oh, Hermione," he cooed reaching out for her.

Hermione backed away from him, repulsed. Sadness, anger and betrayal danced in her large brown eyes, not unlike the way she looked at him when he wiped her memory. He wanted to pick her up and promise her everything would be okay. Not exactly something he could do when _he _was the problem. And mending relations after modifying your child's memory was not exactly covered in parenting books.

"I don't expect you to understand," he sighed _Stay calm_. "I only wanted to keep you safe. I had tried keeping you within reach, I tried explaining the situation to you, but nothing worked."

"And you thought _playing with my mind_ would work?" she squeaked.

He had no answer for that. All he could do was stare at her and wish she _was_ the small child she seemed to him. Winning her trust back, keeping her safe was all so much easier when he was all she had. He hated himself for that thought. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, his eyes not leaving her as he mentally ran through what he should and shouldn't tell her.

"I know I'm the last person you want to be spending any time with right now," he took in a deep breath. "But I suggest you sit down, love. I'm going to tell you what I can."

* * *

"What he could tell her" was very little. Hermione put together the little bit her father let her in on. There was something being protected by the professors, someone wanted it, and that meant that Hermione was in very real danger. Before he'd modified her memory, he'd told her who it was he suspected, but instead of avoiding them, she'd investigated them. So despite wanting to trust her with the name it seemed she was safer not knowing. He wanted to tell her more, but he couldn't.

Hermione read between the lines. If he knew she was investigating the person, that meant she_ came_ to him. She went to him for help and he erased her memory. What was worse, she still loved the traitor. She wished he'd just called her down to scream at her about last night. Why was he so confident Norbert had been real?

_You should have come to me...ha!_ She wouldn't _ever_ come to him for help again!

"How long do you need them incapacitated?" Fred whispered.

"The whole day," she checked over her shoulder.

"That's a tall order," George mused.

The Gryffindor common room was filled with people studying or chatting. Harry was at Quidditch practice. Ron hadn't been released yet, but Hermione knew her window would close soon. All she had to do was make Harry too sick to play the match and then the assailant (who she still clung to a thread of hope that it wasn't her father) couldn't do anything.

"Couldn't you easily sneak out ingredients for a sleeping draught?"

"My father's far too paranoid for me to get away with it. I see his owl flying around me all the time if I'm out. It's easier this way."

The twins looked at each other with raised eyebrows and turned back to her. "An owl?"

"Mage-bred, more capable of reporting my misdeeds than you'd believe."

"He'd be better off getting a houseelf to spy on you," Fred laughed.

"He did, and her name is Libby," Hermione sighed. "She's quite lovely though."

"Can you at least tell us who you're poisoning?" George asked.

"Poisoning?" Harry asked from behind her.

"Gah!" Hermione spun to see both Harry and Ron.

"Just a sleeping draught," Hermione shrugged. "Nothing for you two to w-"

"Come on!" A newly released Ron sat opposite her, hungry for gossip. "Tell me it's Malfoy!"

"It's Malfoy," she lied.

"Is that really smart, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"You sound like me," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"If you lot are plotting to lose our house more points," Percy announced scowling at them as he pushed up his glasses. "I will tell Professor McGonagall! Spiking Malfoy's drink with sleeping draught, Hermione? Should I tell your father to keep an eye on his stores?"

_Damn it, Percy!_ Hermione thought. She thought he liked her, apparently not! How was she supposed to save Harry's life if she couldn't get past Percy Weasley of all people? And did he have to announce it so damn loud? He had the entire common room staring at them.

"Haven't you done enough damage?" Lavender cried. "I wish Snape would stop threatening and pull you out of classes already!"

"Let's go, Lavender," Pavarti rolled her eyes. "I thought you were better than _that_, Hermione!"

The rest of the group joined Percy's threats and Hermione tuned them out wondering if Harry falling unconscious at breakfast would give her away when they thought she was after Malfoy...she wondered if she could get Libby to get the ingredients and do the deed...no one would suspect...no, she wasn't asking that...she'd have to find another way.

Hostility turned to laughter as poor Neville rabbit-hopped into the common room. Tears sprang to his blue eyes and round face flushed pink as he watched the entire room fall over laughing...including Harry, Ron, Percy, Fred and George, who _knew_ better! She rolled her eyes and unlocked his limbs casting a toxic glance over the four boys before she addressing Neville. "Are you alright, Neville?"

Neville related the story of how Malfoy had ambushed him outside the library and to Ron's (all of sudden sympathetic) advice to stand up for himself, Neville whimpered that he already knew he wasn't brave enough to be put in Gryffindor long before Malfoy accused him of such.

_You're not half the coward I am..._Hermione thought back to every moment she froze when action had to be taken. She could read through every book in the damn library and she would still be hopeless! Though saying that would do no good.

Harry and the Weasleys tried to cheer him up with a variety of sweets, assurances Malfoy was due his comeuppance and a chocolate frog.

"I've loads of Dumbledores," Neville said, offering it to Ron.

"That's where I read that name before!" Harry exclaimed.

"Dumbledore's?" Ron scoffed. "You'd have read it everywhere, mate, he is the headmaster."

"No!" Harry snapped pointing to the card. "_Flammel_!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione pressed their heads together and read the card together. Dumbledore worked on the philosopher's stone with Nicholas Flammel and..."Shit!" Hermione slapped her forward as she remembered where she'd read about it.

"Hermione?" Ron said regarding her with large eyes.

It was too late Hermione bounded for the girls' dormitory, ignoring the sneering Pavarti and Lavender as she snatched a large volume from beside her bed and slid down the banister to meet them.

"It can turn lead to gold and more importantly make a person immortal!" She whispered pointing at the passage. "That's why they want it! Who _wouldn't_ want to conquer death?"

"Or make boatloads of gold," Ron said astonished.

"You have a one track mind, Ron," Hermione sighed.

* * *

Monday morning after transfiguration Hermione took a deep breath and wondered what she could say. _My dad wants to kill my best friend, cancel the match please?_

"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione bit her lip. "Do you have a second?"

"Are you quite alright, girl?" McGonagall peered at her over her glasses.

Hermione must've looked like she felt. "You need to cancel the quidditch match, Professor."

"And rob Gryffindor of the chance to regain the points you, Potter and Longbottom lost? Did your father put you up to-"

_All you adults are useless!_ she wanted to cry but instead: "Listen," she said quietly. "Coming forward was the last thing I wanted to do, but I know something dreadful is going to happen."

"Sit down, girl," she sighed."Would you mind telling me why you believe something is going to happen?"

"You _never_ caught the person who jinxed Harry's broomstick. What if they do it again?"

"Is that what you're concerned about?" McGonagall scoffed. "I assure you Potter is in no danger."

"Did you even launch an investigation?" Hermione breathed.

McGonagall's nostril's flared and rage flickered in her beady eyes. "I believe that is the business of myself and the other professors. I understand you're concerned, but nothing will happen. Did we even launch an investigation?! Your father certainly made sure you're adequately suspicious, didn't he?"

_You have no idea..._

Lunch saw the arrival of two birds for Hermione. A raven with a letter from Hiro, which provided a small spark of joy and the second was an owl with a letter from McGonagall providing the details of their detention. Harry's and Neville's were identical, but Hermione's had a cheeky post-script.

_And when you emerge from the Forest alive, you can assure your father that I was not trying to get you killed! _

* * *

"Harry, Hermione," Hagrid told them standing at the edge of the forest. "You two are with me. Neville, you and Malfoy can cover the other end."

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip and tugged on his sleeve, as though she were six again. "I'm sorry, Hagrid, but, erm, I mean, I don't think, erm..."

"Ou' wi' it, Hermione," Hagrid said, not unkindly.

"It's just that, erm..." Hermione took in a deep breath. "It's a stupid idea! Shit! Sorry! Not stupid, but terrible...it...Pairing Neville with Malfoy is _asking _for trouble!"

Hagrid recoiled, looking quite hurt and Hermione wished her brain would work. It was as if she had lost all ability to...no, she was never able to say the right things. Social interaction was just a game Hermione would never understand the rules to. "Just," she sighed. "Pair me with Malfoy, neither of us can mess with the other. He's untouchable and my father heads his house. We _have_ to tolerate each other."

"Yer father would flay me alive if I didn' have you with me," Hagrid explained.

She believed it. _Have to be with a useless adult, Hermione Elizabeth. Have to erase your memory, little girl. It's all to keep you safe, love. I know best...What a bloody prat!_

"Hones'ly, Hermione," he smiled warmly. "Wha's the wors' tha' could happen?"

"If nothing happens, I will _literally_ eat my hat," she muttered in Harry's ear.

They put it from their minds as Malfoy, Neville and Fang set off in one direction and Hagrid went off in another direction. Paths choked with tangled tree roots and creepers barely became less hazardous under the light of Hermione's wand. If Percy hadn't tipped her father off, she would love to steal what she needed for owl-sight elixir as well as the sleeping draught. She spied a silhouette of a centaur standing in the light filtered through a rare clearing staring at Mars.

"Mars is bright tonight," he said.

Bane, the red haired, solemn patriarch of the centaurs that called the forbidden forest home. And Hermione and Hagrid knew a secret of the strict, cold centaur. And that was the sight of 'fawn-eyed human foals' under a certain age made him squeal like a little girl around a three week old kitten. An age Hermione seemed to have passed as he didn't regard her with the same mind-numbing cooing, but he also didn't regard them with the hostility reserved for humans.

"Hullo, Bane," Hagrid greeted him. "We're lookin' fer an injured unicorn. This young lad is Harry Potter, and o' course you remember little Hermione. Harry, this is Bane, he's a centaur."

"I'd have never guessed," Harry said, his trademark cheekiness undercut by his stunned 'centaurs are real?' look.

A back and forth between Hagrid and Bane whittled away minutes, and all it bought them was that Mars was bright (_a war is coming? I should have paid more attention when I read an _Astro-diviners Field Guide!), and that killing a unicorn was an act of incredible evil. They left with Hagrid cursing Centaurs and Hermione wondering if it was culturally insensitive? racist? Speicist? It didn't seem right, but Bane's insistence on speaking in riddles annoyed her too. Though not nearly as much as being right about Neville and Malfoy.

They followed the red fireworks to find Neville shaking in the soil while Malfoy cackled evilly.

"Neville," Hermione sighed helping him up. "Are you okay?"

"Harry, you should-"

"That'll be a disaster and you know it, Hagrid!" Hermione whispered. "They hate each other."

"Yer father-"

"Needn't know," she whispered. "Just don't leave those two idiots alone together. You should take Malfoy and I'll take either Neville or Harry."

"We can hear you!" Harry snapped.

"Don't spoil the fun, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "I was waiting to see when she'd remember that she was stuck with the oaf. Can't let Daddy's little girl get hurt."

"Call Hagrid an oaf again," Hermione challenged in a cold dangerous voice. "And I will spill every last detail I milked from Pansy to Lavender Brown. Our whole year will know." _Please, don't call my bluff..._

"You wouldn't..." he gasped.

"Try me!"

"I swear when my father hears..."

"Harry, Neville," Hermione said loudly. "I have the most _hilarious_ thing to tell you!"

"Shut up!" Malfoy cried.

"Apologize to Hagrid and Neville and I'll think about it!"

To her amazement, Malfoy muttered an apology to both of them and stared at his feet, his pale pointed face flushing pink. Hermione owed Pansy a warning or...

"Don't bother Pansy about this," she shrugged. "If she comes to me upset you _will _regret it!"

Malfoy gulped and a vindictive flutter in her heart sent warmth through her body. _You disgusting bitch! You really _are _your father's daughter!_

"We're wastin' time!" Hagrid groaned. "I'll take Neville, you two seem ter have _him_ under control, and yeh'll be safer wi' the three o' you. Wi' me please, Neville."

"Right," Neville squeaked following Hagrid closely.

Malfoy was uncharacteristically quiet through their trek, only letting out a grumble every now and then when Harry or Hermione knelt down to look for track marks or blood in the soil.

"Hermione?" Harry called. "I think I've found something."

Sure enough he did, droplets resembling mercury splattered across the tangled network of roots. Unicorn blood.

"It looks like it made a path," Harry whispered following it, Hermione tailing him with her light.

"Maybe it was wounded and took off," Hermione mused in a whisper. "Or its attacker dragged it...We'll have to be _very _quiet."

Harry nodded and the two set two following the trail of blood, and Hermione hoped it only led to a wounded unicorn. What was that spell to knit bleeding wounds again? Of course she blanked on it _now!_

"Are you two completely mad?!" Malfoy hissed. "You want to go _toward_ the thing killing unicorns?"

"Stay behind if you want," Harry hissed back. "I don't care!"

"Stay, go," Hermione whispered. "I don't give a damn either, but be _quiet _about it!"

Hermione stalked off ignoring the hard beating in her chest as the shining silver pools became bigger and the sounds of the wood screamed threats at her. Though, she knew she imagined at least _some _of them as hostile. Her father had done an excellent job convincing her the world at large held nothing but threats, even when she _knew_ she couldn't trust him. How much of her freezing came from her life as a shut-in? She put it from her mind as she heard the boys approach at her heals.

"You are mental running off like that!" Malfoy hissed grabbing her wand arm.

"Shh!" She hissed attempting to rip her arm back.

"_I'm_ not getting expelled because you have a death wish!" Malfoy ignored her.

Hermione tried to shake Malfoy, he wasn't particularly strong or big, but he was a good head or so taller than her, and had a grip like a pitbull. "If I get injured I'll tell people you tried to protect me," she hissed. "If I die, you get to pretend you are a failed goddamn hero! Now let me go or I _will_ scream!"

Malfoy released her, but glared at her, probably cooking up a vengeance plot of his own. She turned to the task at hand as icy tendrils gripped her heart. "Where the hell is Harry?"

"I don't care where famous Potter is!" he grumbled.

"If you thought _me _getting killed would get you expelled, think of what getting 'famous Harry Potter' would get you! He's the second coming of Merlin to this school!"

They followed the trail and didn't just find Harry, but a cloaked form leaping from the mangled, bloodied body of a young unicorn while Harry staggered on the spot clutching his forehead. Malfoy screamed and Hermione stood petrified as the cloaked figure of a tall man lunged for Harry. Ice filled her heart and lungs, and she clutched her wand with a white knuckled grip as she tried to urge herself to do something...Malfoy shook behind her, and Harry collapsed with an agonized moan. He laid on the ground motionless...helpless..._DO_ SOMETHING_! _

"_Petrificus_ _Totalis_!" Hermione squeaked hitting the figure.

_It worked!_ The cloaked figure fell to the ground, his limbs bound to his side, face down. Hermione approached the downed figure before Malfoy could come to and stop her. She hoovered over the figure ready to reveal the culprits face when _something _ripped her foot from under her sending her falling back.

The figure hadn't been as handled as she wished. Mere seconds passed, and _somehow_ he lifted the curse without help. She only managed to buy them seconds. He rose to his feet, and all Hermione could see from under the man's hood was a pale jaw, mouth twisted in fury, teeth and lips drenched in silver unicorn blood. She was certain that would be the last thing she ever saw when she heard the distant thundering of hooves.

A blond centaur with large eyes and a palomino body trotted over sending the figure flying off into the wood. She slowly rose to meet her hooved saviour and with his permission helped Harry onto his back. Harry, thankfully, started to come to and a hundred questions escaped both of them as Firenze brought them to Hagrid and the other centaurs.

"This is Harry Potter!" Firenze told Bane after being chastised for letting a human ride him. "Mars is bright tonight. A war is coming..."

Hermione stood enraptured by Firenze's story. He suspected Voldemort had come back, and that Harry was in grave danger. He spoke like they expected Harry to be a target, because he was supposed to be the undoing of Voldemort. Harry, an eleven-year-old boy, the undoing of the Dark Lord...and an oncoming war to decide the fate of the world. All on Harry's shoulders...

* * *

"I thought Sn-whoever wanted the stone just wanted to be rich..." Harry gulped that night in the common room.

"A half life..." Hermione choked. "If the Dark Lord gets that stone...it's over...It'll be much more potent than unicorn blood. How...But Dumbledore...I... " Hermione bit her lip and drew her knees up to her chest.

"Do you think he'll be able to?" Ron asked solemnly. "Kill Harry and get the stone..."

The three of them sat in silence and Hermione thought about her father. He couldn't be working for Voldemort...he couldn't...but after everything else, she didn't know how he could not...if he was innocent why so many secrets? But how could he...she didn't want to believe it. Her concern had to be Harry, but she couldn't stop from playing back the last eight years she could remember...she couldn't reconcile the two.

Voldemort _was_ afraid of Dumbledore...Dumbledore could protect Harry...or was he also not to be trusted. Hermione's stomach churned and her chest tightened as all of her muscles tensed. Dumbledore seemed trustworthy...but was anyone? No, they couldn't trust a single adult with this...they were _all _liars...no, that wasn't fair. In fact, that was kind of stupid...very stupid.

"Harry," she said trying to keep her voice calm. "_He_ is afraid of Dumbledore. As long as Dumbledore is here, he can't touch you...you're safe...we should sleep..."

She doubted the boys slept, and Hermione didn't either...how could she save Harry, protect her father and keep the stone from Voldemort? They all seemed at odds, and what if she had to choose between them? Would she make the right choice? Did she even know what the right choice was? Hermione threw her pillow over her face to muffle the sounds of her sobs through the night.

* * *

_Professor Severus Snape,_

_I am writing to extend a formal invitation to allow your daughter, Hermione, to attend Mahoukatoro during the month of July as part of our cultural enrichment program. My grandson and granddaughter, Hiro and Kaori, have volunteered (and on the part of my grandson requested!) to be her guides during the month. My grandson insists that Hermione would be a brilliant choice for the program, and though we normally don't request outside of applicants, I believe her correspondence with Hiro over this year will allow her to adjust and understand our customs much more quickly than others...and where you are probably as used to claims of nepotism as I am, I will admit that Hiro's insistence did have some bearing on this decision. _

_I understand you will probably want to discuss this opportunity with your daughter. Agreeing to this would be committing to Julys with us until she is 20. Should you decide to take part in this program, please send a response before 1, May 1992. We will also need to review Hermione's transcripts and require a reference letter from a teacher, that is not you for obvious reasons. I look forward to hearing from you._

_Until Next,_

_Yamato Ito, Headmaster of Mahoukatoro_

Severus reread the letter, this might have been the solution he needed. If he could get Yamato to agree to take her earlier, he could have Hermione far, far away from Quirrell and any threat that he posed. He wished he'd gotten this letter after Hallowe'en, it might have been easier to leverage earlier in the academic year and he could have had her sent away the minute Quirrell threatened her...and yet, somehow the idea of her being so far from him still terrified him, even when he _knew_ she would be safer half way around the world. Regardless of his every instinct demanding he keep her near him, he knew what was best.

_Headmaster Yamato,_

_Hermione is thrilled at the prospect of taking part in the program. I hereby extend my permission for my daughter to partake. We will be gathering the necessary paperwork and will have it sent off before the deadline _(It was already April!). _As honoured as we both are that Hermione was chosen for this program, I am afraid I have a rather strange request. One that I do not make lightly._

_For reasons I am not at liberty to disclose, I believe it would be best for her to finish her term at your school rather than ours. Again, I do understand that this is unorthodox, but I have reasons to believe my child's safety is at risk. I'm certain that as a father and grandfather you understand why this belief has led me to request this. _

_My sincere thanks,_

_Professor S. Snape._

He sent off the letter and decided to track down Quirrell before the match and..._Shit! The match!_ He'd forgotten that he'd volunteered to referee it. Why did McGonagall have to appoint, not only a first year, but a first year most likely to have others want him dead, as a Seeker?! She had to know that was a terrible idea. It didn't matter. Quirrell wasn't going to get another chance to try his tricks.

Quirrell walked out of the entrance hall at the exact right time for him to catch up. Perhaps if he knew just how much Severus suspected he would back down...though it wasn't likely if he wasn't working alone like he had suspected. How often had he walked in on the man muttering to himself, or whimpering in a corner? He hoped that weakness would make him cower more before the immediate threat than the worse threat.

"Quirrell," he hissed walking to his side.

"Y-y-yes, S-S-Severus?" he squeaked.

"Meet me in the forest after the match. There is something we _must_ discuss."

"Y-y-yes."

* * *

"Oh thank God!" Hermione sighed releasing a million tensed muscles and loosening the white-knuckled grip on the wand she hid up her sleeve.

Nothing unusual happened with Harry or his broomstick the entire match. It played like a completely normal match...or what she expected to be a normal match.

"We won!" Ron exclaimed.

The ending of the game allowed Hermione to breathe again, but it seemed, though Ron had seemed as grim and nervous as she was until the end, but instead of untensing, he jumped for joy with the rest of the Gryffindor lot. Malfoy made a snide comment that earned Ron's ire, and before she knew it, the lanky boy at her side was now leaping over her shoulder at him.

Shouting commenced and Hermione slipped out of the throng of people jeering and throwing punches. She managed to completely evade detection as she slipped onto the grass and waited for Harry to emerge from the changing tents when she spied a purple clad man checking over his shoulder and creeping to the forest. Quirrell...what was he up to? She couldn't shake the burning voice in her mind that told her to follow him.

She found a nearby tree, gulped and climbed, quietly into it. She picked a lower branch where she could hide in the foliage and still spy Quirrell on the ground, wringing his hands and muttering to himself.

"It will be fine, it will be fine...we'll take care of things, won't we? He won't stop us...he can't stop us..."

Did he only stutter in the presence of others? She supposed that was a possibility, but she wondered what he was talking about, and more importantly who was the other part of 'we'? She wished she knew, but her musing was intetrrupted as the branch shook and a skinny form appeared from the rustling leaves. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from making a noise and nearly lost her balance as a pair of green eyes beheld her with shock.

_Damn it, Harry! _Hermione let herself breathe again and she pressed a finger to her lips.

Harry closed his mouth, nodded solemnly and the two peered down at the now two forms below them. The second was a black cloaked figure who lowered his hood to reveal her father. _No...please, don't let this be what I think it is..._

"I-I d-don't know why you wanted to m-meet me h-here, Severus," Quirrell quivered.

"I'm sure you do, Quirrell," he closed the gap between them. "Students aren't supposed to know about the philosopher's stone."

Harry nearly fell out of the tree at the mention of the stone, but luckily, he steadied himself and didn't draw attention to them. Hermione might have done the same had she not been hugging the branch they were on for dear life. A gift Hermione and her father shared was the ability to leap to conclusions in a single bound, and she'd hoped this was one of those times. But this conversation dashed the last hope she clung to that he was innocent.

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell!" he snarled. "Think _very_ carefully about where your loyalties lie."

"Th-think of y-your-"

"I would be _very _careful about who you threaten," he grabbed Quirrell by the arm and brought his face dangerously close to his. "You don't want to know the things I would do if I found myself with nothing to lose!"

The two men left the forest separately, and Harry and Hermione gulped before skulking back up to the castle with heavy hearts.

They found Ron in the common room celebrating with the others, beaming and bragging about Malfoy's blackened eyes. Until he saw their pale solemn faces.

"We need to talk!" Harry whispered.

The three dodged the celebrating Gryffindors and left the common room, opting for the privacy of a dark and dusty broom cupboard on the same floor. Hermione dug her nails into her hands and her stomach churned while a knot formed in her throat. She sat opposite the boys and tried to bring the words to her lips. She could barely make out their interrogating eyes, but she still shrunk under their gaze. They needed to know the truth, but Hermione shook silently while listening to Harry tell Ron about the conversation, hugging her knees and feeling blood at her fingertips and tasting it on her lowerlip as she tried to let breath find its way to her lungs.

A sob escaped her lips as she tried to speak. In a broken, shaking voice Hermione told them everything. About seeing her father jinxing the broom, his leg, the wiping her memory, the journal entries about the conflict they had on Hallowe'en. Everything. A year's worth of secrets flowed from her with the tears, she was unable to stop either.

"Hermione," Ron gulped. "Snape tried to _kill_ Harry, and might be working for You-Know-Who. Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"H-he's my father!" Hermione wailed. "I-I-I-wanted to be wr-wrong! I'm s-sorry! I'm so sorry!"


	14. B1Ch13:Trials,Tribulations and Trapdoors

"Yessir," Hermione nodded keeping as much distance as she could.

"Is that all you have to say?" Severus asked.

Silence, her gaze fixed on the floor and rather than shrinking into the nearest wall, she stood rigid and erect, more like a little soldier than a girl speaking with her father. He had expected her to have some kind of emotion, to either be upset at being sent away or excited at the prospect of going to Japan. Perhaps a mixture of the two, but this dead reception was nothing short of eerie.

"Do you have any questions?" he asked.

She shook her head, the only part of her body language giving away a hint of an emotion was the sadly familiar clawing at her own hands. He had agreed to something quite major without asking for her input, and she had staggering little to say about it. Though Hermione had been expert at avoiding him by now, it seemed her decision not to speak to him extended to such criticisms. He doubted she understood that sending her away was the last thing he wanted to do; he also imagined that she didn't understand he was doing this for her own safety.

He had planned to explain those things to her, but he started to doubt anything more he had to say would be processed. It was as if she were counting the seconds until he excused her. Now that he knew that she knew about his modifying her memory...well, he couldn't blame her, could he? Maybe he should have waited for Yamato's reply. But what if he agreed? Could he just say 'pack your things you leave for Japan Saturday week'? There was no winning...

"I will let you know what's going on as soon as I get a reply what will be going on," he sighed. "You may leave."

"Yessir," she said in a detached voice. "Thank you, sir."

He watched her leave the classroom knowing she would return to the shadows only appearing in classes and expertly slipping out before anyone had a chance to speak with her. At least this meant Quirrell would have trouble getting a hold of her even if he couldn't send her away before July. He returned to his desk and wonderedif there was more to her new cold demeanour than his admitting to using a memory charm on her. Such a grim child, as if she possessed some cursed knowledge...that worried him.

As the week progressed he noticed a dread shared between Hermione, Potter and Weasley, each trying as hard as possible not to acknowledge his existence in classes. How often had he spied the boys whispering in the corridors with grim expressions on their faces. He had no clue how they knew, but it was evident the boys knew about the stone, as well as Hermione...all he'd done was for naught. And now there was the additional challenge Potter being involved. Was the boy _trying _to get himself killed?

Mid-week, he finally got his reply from Yamato, and he couldn't say he was surprised to see that Yamato was unable to accept her earlier than July. Moving forward without that option was something he prepared for. He cast a sideways glance at Quirrell who chased his lunch around his plate, looking quite pale and frail. Perhaps he cracked under the pressure or realized just what he had gotten himself into...though he knew that was wishful thinking. He followed him everywhere when he could. The message was clear, Quirrell would have to get past him or face the wrath of his supposed master...Quirrell was bound to do something stupid and soon.

Until then, he would proceed as he had been in the upcoming weeks.

* * *

As the weeks progressed Hermione poured herself into revisions and spent her time out of class in the library, choosing to retreat back to the secret passage she discovered in the summer and hid away from anyone who might want to speak with her. After the episode in the broom cupboard, she didn't know how to talk to Harry and Ron. Every time they saw her she could see the damn pity in their eyes. How often had she bumped into Ron only to see him open his mouth before pressing his lips into a thin line. Harry was no different. Both of them seemed so torn between giving her space and talking to her...Hermione made the decision for them.

For the life of her, she had no idea how she managed to get through the weeks worth of written and practical exams with so much on her mind. But they did offer her a reprieve, permission to think of something other than what she _knew _she had to do and soon. She would find Harry and Ron, letting them know that she was with them in going off after the stone. It was only a manner of time before Quirrell broke down and gave her father whatever information he needed to steal the stone. Was the entire staff working together to protect it? She remembered that many of them worked together over the summer in secret, she imagined it was on the stone's protections, meaning he would have no clue how Quirrell's would work...that must have been what he wanted.

"I'm with you," Hermione told Harry and Ron in a whisper. "I can't let this happen...no matter what I feel..."

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked. "If comes down to it...Could you?"

Hermione gulped. If it came down to _that_, she didn't think they'd survive. And she doubted she could...no, they would go, steal the stone and give it to Dumbledore before _anything _could happen. Getting the stone permanently away from Voldemort was what mattered. Hermione couldn't allow herself to think of the conflict if it came to it.

"I'll do what needs to be done," she whispered in a broken voice.

"Okay," Ron said. "What's the plan?"

"We still need to figure out how to get passed Fluffy," Harry mused. "Once we know that...And Snape nearly lost his leg, so he won't be like to try it before then either..."

"At least it's not Norbert guarding him," Ron scoffed. "That would be a disaster."

"Ron!" Hermione squealed. "You're a genius! Hagrid _always_ wanted a dragon, they could have..."

"Used the dragon to pry information out of Hagrid!" Harry finished with a gasp. "You knew Hagrid always wanted a dragon, Hermione, did Snape too?"

"Yes," Hermione choked. Now that she found her resolve, she didn't know why each new piece of evidence her father was a Death Eater shattered her.

"Let's go to Hagrid's," Harry said. "Hermione, you can use my cloak, we definitely don't want you caught out of the tower right now."

Hermione nodded and the three went to visit Hagrid.

Hagrid beamed at their arrival and put the kettle on, nearly spilling the water when he saw Hermione throw off the cloak.

"Blimey," Hagrid sighed. "I'll have ter get used ter tha'..."

"Wha's on yer minds?" he asked as the three perched themselves.

"We, erm," Harry started. "Hagrid, we were wondering how you managed to get a dragon egg."

"Oh, well, erm, yer see, Harry..." Hagrid told them about the card game at the Hogshead with a gambler who miraculously wanted to gamble with a bloody dragon egg. Was Hagrid so blinded by his desire for a dragon that he didn't question it? He was patient with the line of questioning from the three of them, which allowed them not only to discover the mysterious gambler was male, cloaked, and dangerously curious. A curiousity Hagrid sated when he bragged about how good he was with magical creatures, and told him about Fluffy!

"'Sall about how you handle 'em," he beamed. "I tol' him if ye play him a bi' o' music, he'll fall right to sleep!"

_Oh, Hagrid, you poor man...why?_ But instead Hermione changed the subject. "So, you know that we know, erm..."

"Ye three aren' still on abou' tha' bloody stone are ye?"

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione sent an elbow into his ribs...not as gently as she probably should have. "You told us it's safe, Hagrid, and we believe you. But we were wondering, who, aside from you, obviously, that Dumbledore would trust enough to defend the stone?"

Hagrid listed everyone Hermione suspected, including her father, and she knew it was Quirrell's defencce that he couldn't get past. But with how Quirrell had been behaving lately, and Harry reporting he found him in a classroom crying...all three of them knew they had to act now.

Hermione recloaked and the three left Hagrid to find Dumbledore. Hermione still didn't know about it...but he seemed to be the only person they could even remotely trust. Hermione wished she could just destroy it...but that meant the death of at least two people, and she knew she was a monster for even considering it.

"What are you boys doing inside?" McGonagall asked with an armload of books. "It's beautiful out."

"We need to speak to Professor Dumbledore!" Harry blurted after a stilted silence.

Professor McGonagall informed them that Dumbledore was out on urgent ministry business and dismissed Harry's concerns that it was important. That was when Harry and Ron both blurted out that it was about the stone, prompting McGonagall to drop her books and stare at them.

"How did you find out?" she whispered in a low, dangerous voice.

"Erm," Harry bit his lip.

"Hermione..." Ron blurted. "She,erm, over the summer she figured you were up to something..."

_Damn it, Ron!_

"And she told us about it on Hallowe'en, because..." Ron breathed. "Because she said she thought whoever let the troll in was after it..."

"And we think Sn-someone's trying to steal it now!" Harry said.

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "I don't know how she managed to sneak around enough to find out, nor why she told you two and not us. A teacher's daughter, you'd think we'd be the first she came to! Either way, I assure you, the stone is perfectly safe, and none of your business. I would relay that to her as well! I had better not catch _any _of you skulking around!"

She stormed off after recollecting her books and that left the three of them looking around dumbstruck.

"If Dumbledore's not here..." Ron whispered. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I don't..."

"And what are you boys doing inside on such a lovely day?" her father's voice interrupted their whispering.

The two looked at each other before turning their gaze back to him.

"I would be careful standing around and speaking in hushed tones," he told them. "Don't want to be losing Gryffindor any more points because someone thinks you're up to something. And poor Hermione would be simply livid to find out you've wasted any opportunities to be outdoors."

He wasn't exactly wrong that she was jealous of those who could roam freely, but bringing up the restrictions _he_ imposed like it was circumstances out of their control made her remember every last thing he'd done. All in the name of what? Her safety? If she was damaged, it was his fault..._unless you were born broken... _No, she didn't have time to think about that.

"And Potter," he said. "If I hear about anymore nightly escapades, I will _personally_ see to you expulsion."

"Hermione," Harry whispered to her. "Ron and I will be watching the corridor, you should keep an eye on Snape."

_Just spying on your father...what could go wrong?_

* * *

Hermione watched her father in the staff room look over his newspaper several times to stare at Quirrell, who shrank and shuddered when he caught it before returning to his conversation with Flitwick. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, but the other professors failed to pick up on it. All chatting about how glad they were the year was at an end soon, as if they were children excited for a holiday.

The tension became much more clear when McGonagall entered the room, staring at her father, nostrils flaring and a fire jumping behind her spectacles.

Her father immediately leapt up and leaned in close. "What happened?"

"_Your daughter..._" she hissed.

"Is she..." colour drained from his face.

"She _knows _about the stone, Severus."

"Might I suggest you don't burst into the room with no words but 'your daughter'?" he snapped. "I thought something had happened to her!" Worry lingered on his face, but the drained immediate horror left and he stopped reaching for his wand. "Do you know how she knows?"

"That's exactly what I'd like to know!" she hissed. "Potter and Weasley seem to think she found out during the summer. Told them all about it after Hallowe'en because she thought someone let the troll in as a diversion so they could steal it. But if you had her on such a tight leash, how could she?"

"I don't know," he said in a low, cold voice. "Perhaps those boys lied to you? I know there's no way she could have known by then...They know expelling her would be presented with unique challenges, I imagine they think she's safe if they threw her under the train? And my daughter's no idiot (_I would have assumed different by the way you speak to me!_) she would have come to me if she'd suspected something so dangerous would fall into the wrong hands. If not me, then you or the headmaster."

"We both know that's a load of cock and bull, Severus!" McGonagall snapped.

"Shit," he sighed, and Hermione thought she saw him glance over to Quirrell. "I have no idea how she knows. I'll talk to her about it tomorrow after my class with her. She won't be doing anything stupid. I suggest you find a way to deter the boys. I'm not sure how effective I was with them..."

"Already taken care of!" she said. "Found those little fools sniffing around the corridor and told them I would deduct enough points to put them in the negatives, and if that didn't work, I'd write their parents."

"I see," he mused.

Quirrell excused himself among this conversation, Hermione moved so he wouldn't bump into her on his way out. She didn't like how close she had to hoover near the door to ensure she had a way out.

McGonagall moaned about Hermione's behaviour the past few weeks. "And to think, she had the nerve to say 'did you even launch an investigation'! I would suggest-"

"I shall talk to her about all of this tomorrow and she _will_ apologize," he said. "I'm loathe to remind you, but you are aware you can expel her?"

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a gasp.

"Severus," McGonagall gasped in her stead.

"Neither of us want that, but _she _doesn't know that," he shrugged. "You'll find that threat much more effective than moaning to me. Now, as I said, I will talk to her, but I'm afraid I really do have to go."

Hermione crept out behind him, careful not to leave the door open too long or get too close. He constantly checked over his shoulders as he turned corners. Did he expect to be followed. Terror mounted as she realised he was making his way to the third floor. Was this it? Hermione gripped her wand in case he made a move for the door. He stopped half way to the forbidden corridor.

"And here I thought I was following you," he said coldly. "It'll be so much easier if you just show yourself."

Hermione pressed up against the wall. She had been so quiet, how could he know someone was following him?

"Come out, Quirrell," he turned around, wand in hand. "Now. Or I _will_ find you."

_Why would Quirrell be following him? Is this a stalemate between the two?_ Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as he approached her. Until, from the opposite corner, Quirrell did emerge.

"I-I-I w-w-wasn't f-following y-you!" he squeaked. "I-I w-w-was j-just..."

"Save it!" he spat. "Don't think I didn't notice you left immediately after McGonagall revealed those three knew about the stone!"

"B-b-but..."

"Oh drop the act!" he hissed.

"P-please d-don't h-hurt m-me, S-Severus!" he sniffed.

"Leave and we can both pretend nothing happened."

"O-of c-c-course," he said, his squeaky voice and trembling hands betrayed by...a smirk? What was Hermione missing? "B-but th-think o-of p-p-poor l-little H-Hermione..."

Whatever Quirrell was about to say, Hermione would never know because he was cut off, not by a spell, but by a loud smack as her father back handed his face. The man fell to the ground, and looked horrified as her father pointed his wand at him. "If you _ever_ even look in my daughter's direction, so much as say her name, I do not care what the consequences are!" he snarled. "Threaten my child again and_ I will kill you!_ I told you back in the forest, without her I have _nothing_ left to lose. Be _very_ careful who you threaten."

Quirrell whimpered and scampered off to a lower floor. She watched her father take one last look around before seem heading down the stairs himself.

"He's gone mad!" Hermione whispered, trying not to cry back in the common room. "He's threatened to _kill_ Quirrell. And Quirrell...I guess he'd been trying to use me as leverage to get him to stop. I guess now I know why my father thought I was in danger...I thought it was just his usual paranoia, or else trying to get me out of this mess..."

_Without her I have nothing left to lose!_ Was that what Quirrell was about to say in the forest? Was "think of your-" going to be finished with daughter? She thought his warning back then was to tell Quirrell not to threaten him. However, if it was a threat to her that made him go mad, maybe, just maybe if _she_ cut him off before going to retrieve the stone, she could stop him without anyone getting hurt?

"We have to go for the stone tonight!" Harry said.

* * *

Harry and Ron met Hermione on the stairs to the boys' dormitory nothing more than her wand, flute and a heart that refused to beat anything less than five times it's normal speed. They were actually doing this. Hermione desperately hoped the three of them would beat her father to the site, if they got the stone first, all they'd have to do is play keep away...They just had to get their first.

A hitch in the plan took the form of a round faced boy in a blue dressing gown clutching his toad.

"Neville?" Hermione asked. "Is everything alright? Maybe you should go back to bed? You look awfully pale."

"Dreadful!" Harry agreed.

"Sleep would definitely..." Ron started but was cut off.

"I'm not letting you three take any more points from our house!" Neville said. "I-I can't let you go out! I'll fight you!"

"Neville!" Harry hissed. "This is really important. I don't expect you to understand, but you have to let us through!"

"Move, Neville!" Ron joined in. "Now!"

"You were the one that told me I have to stand up for myself!"

Ron shook. "But not with us! Come on, Neville, we're your mates!"

"Are you?" he scoffed.

"I want us to be," Hermione said in a very small and solemn voice. _I do what I must..._ "Which is why I'm so, so _sorry _about this, Neville."

She raised her with a shaking hand (_Come on, you set your own father on fire...do it, you coward!_) and tried not to look into Neville's wide blue eyes, she terrified him.

"_Petrificus Totalis!"_

Neville's arms pressed to his sides and legs locked together before he fell to the scarlet carpet with a loud thud. He laid there looking betrayed, his eyes combing over the three of them.

Hermione ripped a cushion and yellow afghan from a sofa and covered Neville after placing the cushion under his head. The truth was it probably eased Hermione's guilt more than Neville's discomfort. She apologized again before joining the boys under the invisibility cloak.

Silent as the grave, the three of them crept along the walls, careful to avoid any detection. Hermione read doom in every sound from Peeves, muted conversations of teachers or birds. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. For a moment they thought they were actually detected as a pair of lamp yellow eyes stared at them intently. Did the cloak not work on cats? Or did Mrs. Norris smell them?

"Oh," Ron whispered. "Can we? Can we kick her this once?"

_Is everything a joke to you, Ron? _

They made it to the forbidden corridor without further incident, and they braced themselves to play for Fluffy immediately. Harry already had his flute (also made by Hagrid) resting under his lips and the three entered. Fluffy started barking at the three of them, but he lacked the intensity he had when they first came upon him. Harry played a soothing melody immediately, and Fluffy's massive eyes drooped as he stretched and lowered himself to the ground.

It worked! But Hermione hadn't time to celebrate when she saw something gold glinting at the dogs massive paws. Resting at his feet was an abandoned harp. He was already here! They didn't beat him to it. Something else, something rather silly actually, nagged at her as she moved the harp to open the trapdoor. Did her father even play the harp? Granted, it wouldn't be the first thing she didn't know about him, nor the biggest, but it did bother her.

The thought left as Ron and Hermione stared down into the darkness of the trapdoor. The light from Hermione's wand cut off, and there was no sign of a ground. Was this a bottomless pit? No, that was stupid! But still, Hermione dug her nails into wrist with her free hand as she tried to steady her breathing. What if they fell forever? That was worse than the shattering impact of the ground. Nothing, no sound, no feeling, just darkness and complete disorientation without any hope of regaining control.

"You first," Ron whispered. "Go on, Hermione, we don't have...are you okay? I'll go first then?"

Harry shook his head and pointing at himself.

"You want to go first?" Ron said. "But Fluffy-"

Hermione sheathed her wand and dug out her own flute, continuing Harry's melody as she watched each boy jump down. Her heart pounded in her ears, and every last fibre of her being told her to turn back, but Hermione shut her eyes, still playing and jumped praying that the ground was forgiving, or at least that she didn't have to fall for too long. She hit the ground, and it was, indeed much more forgiving than she had anticipated.

The relief was short-lived. All along the damp stone walls, and cloying thick air, thick green tendrils danced and writhed around them. "Nobody move a muscle..." Hermione gulped. "Steady your breathing. This is the Devil's Snare."

Hermione wasn't having luck following her own advice, but she hadn't been in its grasp for too long. She untied herself from the tendrils around her ankles and found a bare patch of floor. Ron squirmed and the tendrils choked at him, Harry only fared slightly better, the snare cared much more for the struggling Ron.

_Shit! Shit! Shit! Your friends are going to die here if you don't do something! This is all your fault! Do something!_ But she could only watch in horror as Ron's face contorted in agony, she could just barely see his face now. She tried to remember something she'd read in herbology ages ago. _Devil's Snare...likes the cold and damp...cold...damp...Shit! Fire! But you can't hurt them!...Incendio would completely engulf the plant...and them...what can I...I set my father on fire once..._

Hermione muttered her choice words to summon the bluebell flame she had created over the summer. It would still play to the Devil's Snare's vulnerability to fire, but Harry and Ron would have to sit in it for minutes to sustain damage! The flames danced, casting blue light across the room, crackling and popping on the Snare's moist vines. The tendrils loosened around both of them and they ran to Hermione's patch of floor, eyes wide, faces pale and covered in fungal sweat.

"You couldn't have done that sooner?!" Ron choked. "It was the troll all over again. _Promise_ me you're not going to freeze up like that again! It could _kill _us!"

"Ron!" Harry hissed.

"Don't," she gulped. "He's right...I can't keep losing my head in crises."

They walked into a new room. Golden light bathed the room from lit lamps in the four corners, and the massive stone walls, floor and vaulted ceiling were completely untouched by the last chamber's humidity. They could breathe easier and the only thing filling the air now were strange metallic bodied birds, glinting in the lamplight. But they weren't birds. What was the nature of the challenge here? A stack of broomsticks laying neglected and Hermione's heart sank to her stomach once more.

"It's locked!" Ron said.

"Oh," Hermione gave a broken laugh. "_Alohamora?" Please work!_

She tried to open the door and nothing happened.

"Did you not think I tried that first?" Ron glowered.

"Oh..heh...oops..." she gulped shrinking under his glare.

"Those are keys," Harry said. "We'll have to catch the right one."

Ron examined the lock tapping the silver lock and pursing his lips. "We're looking for an old silver key, large and-"

"Found it!" Harry pointed.

In the fluttering of hundreds of keys, a glimpse of silver shone with brilliant blue wings among the bronze and gold white-winged keys of an assortment of sizes. How could they have missed...

"Thank god you're a seeker," Hermione breathed. "We'll just have to distract the other keys while you get it...knowing Flitwick, the other keys will probably attack you if you get to close."

Ron showed surprising competence once more. After tonight she was going to give him more time, more patience. He was so far from the vain idiot she thought she met back on the train. And though Hermione had grown fond of Ron, she never truly saw him as smart or capable. But he devised a plan to make the flock separate. He gave Hermione (thankfully) the lower third, Ron took the upper, and with the two of them playing distractions Harry was to get the key safely.

Though even the best of plans go awry...

"Harry!" Ron gasped as his flock dove for Harry when he got too close to grabbing the blue-winged key.

They clustered around him, their razor like wings cutting his flesh, his screams echoed off the walls and she could barley see him through the dense cloud of metal and wings. Hermione closed her eyes and grabbed her wand, nearly losing control of the broomstick under her. _Shit!_ "Immobilis!" she shrieked pointing above her.

Five or six keys dropped from the cloud, hitting the ground with a metallic clang. She paused her broom in the air and kept casting the immobilization charm hitting them in groups of five or six. She didn't know how many keys she immobilized, but soon, Harry wasn't the only threat, and Ron was no longer a threat. A small fraction of the keys crowding Harry and over half came of Ron's descended upon her like a dark cloud.

It all happened so fast. She lost sight of the boys as they swarmed her, what looked like soft feathers were razor sharp, she could barely keep her eyes open as they cut away at her flesh and she shrieked in agony. She tried to move her wand, but the swarm knocked her about and it clattered to the floor, far, far below her. Was this how she died?

"Immobilis!" Ron's voice shouted somewhere in the distance. "Do you have it yet?!"

"Almost!" Harry called.

"F-focus on Harry!" she cried, knowing she didn't sound like she meant it. "He needs to get the key!"

A few more shouts of "immoblis" and Hermione's swarm moved to Ron.

"Ron!" she shrieked.

She moved downward to fetch her wand when suddenly the swarms fell to the ground, like metallic hail clattering to the ground. She looked up and saw Harry covered in cuts holding the prize key. He did it! He got the key!

"I _really_ hope there isn't a scaling in difficulty," Hermione gasped for air as the two boys joined her on the ground.

"What could possibly be worse than a great three-headed dog, murder plant and attacking keys?" Ron asked as Harry unlocked the door.

"Chess!" Ron clapped observing the checkered board and giant stone pieces set up on the board. "This is perfect!"

"Unless we take the place of pieces that have to be sacrificed," Hermione breathed. "But I'm pants at chess, so I trust you."

"Me too," Harry nodded. "We'll follow your every order."

Ron tapped his chin and his eyes scanned the board as he muttered to himself. He fell silent, his face grim and he seemed to go through a thousand scenarios in only a few minutes.

"Okay," Ron snapped his fingers. "I got it!"

Ron assigned each of them pieces and they waited for the game to begin. White went first, and Ron called upon a black pawn that dragged the white piece off the board, both massive stone pieces wrestling. Losing to one of these pieces could mean grave injury and even death. Hermione wondered how many times she was certain death would come for them this past year, or even this past night. She would have to swallow that fear and trust Ron...Eleven years wasn't nearly long enough, but she took a deep breath. If Ron gave the order, she would sacrifice herself for the win. They needed Ron's expertise, and it _had_ to be Harry if it were Voldemort, but Hermione decided she was expendable. Better her than them...Who would miss her?

The game progressed, more pieces dragging others off the board. Ron surveyed the board for a cool minute between each order. For a moment, Hermione that they had it. They had claimed far more white pieces than the white team had of theirs, but then, the White Queen took to the board, and she was unstoppable. Every move Ron ordered he looked less and less sure of himself. Both Harry and Hermione developed trembles in their steps as Ron sent them out to claim pieces.

_You're expendable, be okay with this..._ she told herself as she claimed a white bishop.

She turned back to Ron, who's face paled, his ruddy lips pressed into a hard line as he drew in a long deep breath. "Harry," he said, his voice somehow both strong and trembling. "I'm going to move to be claimed by the queen. That'll get her out of the way so you can claim the king."

"Ron, no!" both Harry and Hermione cried.

"I have to. This is chess, sacrifices must be made."

"I-I'll do it!" Hermione cried. "I'm in line to the position you're going! You're needed, don't do this!"

"You're needed too, Hermione," Ron fear and compassion in his glistening eyes. "And I will put the king in check. The queen won't have any interest in you if you take that position. We have to end this game now. We don't know how far Snape will have gotten. This-" he breathed and the tremble returned. "Needs to happen."

"But-" Hermione argued and Ron had taken his place.

The white queen marched up to Ron with malice carved in her stone face. She grabbed Ron, yanking him off his horse with an excessive amount of force and Hermione was certain she heard a sickening snap as Ron cried out in pain before being tossed from the board like a ragdoll.

"Ron!" they both cried.

Harry turned his gaze from Ron to the king. He marched up to it, and she could feel the fire coming off him. Ron's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain...Hermione turned her eyes to Ron, he was down, but still breathing, wheezing unsteady breaths, but still breathing. _Please don't die..._

"Checkmate!" Harry shouted, enraged.

The game was finally over and Hermione rushed over to Ron.

"Hermione!" Harry grabbed her arm. "We have to go! You heard Ron...this can't be in vain..."

Hermione turned to face him, tears sprang to his eyes.

"He's alive," Hermione waving her wand and muttering a couple of spells. One to stay the bleeding, and the other to patch his ribs, good enough until Madam Pomfrey could tend to him. "Thank you, Ron," she whispered. "Let's go!"

The next room was a familiar challenge. Hermione never thought in a million years she would see that towering, lumpy goliath of a mountain troll again. She steadied her breath and grabbed her wand, but he didn't rampage, he didn't even acknowledge them.

"I think he's been charmed..." Hermione whispered. "But I'm not sure..."

"Whatever it is," Harry whispered. "We should go before it's totally awake."

They moved on to the next room and both nearly leapt as purple flames shot from the ground reaching the ceiling barring the way back. Opposite them was a black fire barring the way forward. Thirteen bottles of different sized lined a shelf along the wall to their side, and Hermione realized with a pang that this was her father's challenge. When did he go from trusted ally and friend to Dumbledore to Death Eater? Did he know when he made this challenge that he'd be betraying everyone he knew? Or was it sometime after?

Hermione took a slip of paper with trembling hands and tried not to cry as she combed over the familiar hand writing. What she'd give to go back, to relive their good moments...she knew their days were numbered, if she had known earlier, if she had been less resistant with him...could she have changed his mind? Could she change his mind now? Or was he too far gone?

_You don't have time for this!_ she chastised herself and read through the puzzle. She could mourn the loss of what she had with her father if she survived. They had to stop Voldemort.

"The small one," Hermione said in a broken voice to a rather confused looking Harry.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked and Hermione realised she hadn't explained a thing, nor allowed him to read the puzzle.

"This bottle," she handed it to him. "Will allow you to go through the black flames to the next, and hopefully final challenge...but there's only enough of one of us to go through..."

"Is there one to let you go back?" Harry asked.

"This one," she said pointing. "Back at the chess game I thought I was fine stopping...but seeing _his_ task, reading his hand writing...Harry, what if I can change his mind?"

"You should go back, Hermione..." Harry said.

"But..."

"No, Hermione, listen to me," he held her shoulders. "We don't have time, we need to act now. And I need Dumbledore. Go get Ron, fly to the owlery and get Dumbledore!"

"But...he's..." she tried to find the words.

"He's not going to change his mind. We both know that...and if I send you in...can you _really_ do what's necessary?"

"What's necessary?!" Hermione cried, tears springing to her eyes. "There _has_ to be another way..."

"And if there isn't?" his stare seemed to burn through her soul.

Hermione bit her lip, she wanted to drop, to cry herself to sleep and never wake. There was no right answer here. What was worse was that she knew Harry was right. Ron needed medical care, and Harry needed Dumbledore if it was Voldemort there. She nodded before throwing her arms around him. "If it is him, bring him back alive...you're a good person, Harry. Killing anyone would destroy you...and I-I need him to be okay...it's stupid, I know..."

"If I'd ever known my dad," Harry breathed. "But I found out he were working for Voldemort...I think I would be just like you. I think Ron would too. It's not stupid. It's human."

Hermione bit her lip harder and nodded not trusting her voice not to crack, but she did have one more peice to say. "You're a great wizard, you're going to go on to do great things. The Dark-Voldemort will have nothing on you. I'll go now. You've got this!"

Hermione and Harry downed their perspective potions and Hermione turned back with a heavy heart hoping that she was right about Voldemort being unable to touch him. Time was of the essence.

* * *

Ron was by no means heavy, but Hermione had trouble moving him, nearly dragging him over her shoulders, his feet trailed behind them and Hermione hoped she wasn't doing more damage to him. The letter was on the way, all she had to do now was get Ron to the hospital wing, which was surprisingly more difficult, even with the adrenaline driving her to move forward. The had finally made their way down to the entrance hall, Hermione trying to remain steady.

_Shit!_ Around the corner she saw two tall men speaking in hushed tones. One was a man with a long beard and clad in purple...Dumbledore! He'd come after all! And very quickly. Did he know before?

"So many letters," Dumbledore sighed. "Yours, Minerva's and now Hermione's. You were right to summon me back when you did. And don't punish yourself, you were also right to wait for me. I must go, time is of the essence. Isn't that right, Hermione?"

He turned, peering at them over his half-moon, his blue eyes twinkling in the light knowingly, but an urgency could be found in his in his posture. The second man came from the shadows, staring at her rather stunned.

"Hermione..."

Hermione collapsed, unsure if it was exhaustion or relief that caused it. But she crumpled under Ron's weight and tears sprang to her eyes as a familiar form knelt beside her and placed his hand on her head.

"D-Dad?" she whimpered.

"I'm more than capable of handling things myself, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I trust you can see these two to the hospital wing?"

Before Dumbledore was even finished speaking her father had conjured a stretcher, placed Ron on it and helped Hermione to her feet. "Time. Go."

Dumbledore flew off like a shot, his speed surprising for such an old man, leaving nothing but a swishing of purple robes behind him.

"Oh, Hermione," her father said in a soft voice taking her face in his hands. "Thank god, you're okay. My poor baby girl, if I thought..." he didn't finish his sentence, instead he drew her into a hug, patiently running on hand over the top of her head as she sobbed uncontrollably into his abdomen.

_He was innocent! He didn't betray them all!_ Hermione had never been so happy to be wrong. She thought she'd had a handle on it until morning, but now seeing him, hearing his voice...she thought she had no life to go back to, no one to miss her...but now she was held, safe, warm, cared for...that simple reminder mixed with the relief sent her to pieces.

"Let's get you two looked after," he said lifting her. "Then I imagine I owe you some answers..."

Hermione sniffed and nodded, not trusting that she'd be able to keep it together if she tried to speak again. They made continued their way down to the hospital wing, and the mixture of relief and exhaustion she'd felt since coming upon Dumbledore and her father in the entrance hall won over the adreneline that pushed her through and she fell asleep.

* * *

"I cannot get Snape calling you 'his poor baby girl' out of my head!" Ron chuckled. "It's so out of character I get chills thinking of it!"

"Jerk!" Hermione rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at Ron. "I thought you were unconscious!"

"Come on, Hermione!" Ron whined. "I'm injured!"

"You're being released too!" she stuck her tongue out at him.

Ron stuck his tongue out at her as well and the two broke into a short lived laughter.

"I wish he was being released too," Ron said looking in the direction of Harry's bed.

"Me too," Hermione nodded.

Pomfrey held both Hermione and Ron for two nights, and they watched Dumbledore put Harry in a bed that first night covered in cuts and abrasions before fetching Pomfrey. However, unlike Hermione and Ron, Harry didn't regain consciousness. Two nights and nothing...Pomfrey promised he'd be fine, but Hermione and Ron had difficulty trusting her when Harry was so, so fragile in that bed, even surrounded by the tokens of well-wishers. She just wanted him to wake.

_I should have somehow been there to help...I don't know how...  
_

"You two look grim for two first years about to re-earn their freedom," Pomfrey commented. "He will wake. Your little friend is in the best care."

Hermione imagined how much Harry would loathe to have been referred to as their 'little friend', Ron must have been imagining the same thing as a weak smirk found his lips.

Pomfrey examined both of them, Hermione still didn't understand why she was kept as long as she was, Ron had taken much more serious injuries, and it was curious the two had the same sentence...sentence, stay might have been a better word? Though Hermione knew why some people called Pomfrey 'the Warden'...How could Hermione have never noticed how overbearing that woman was? Well, she supposed she had one theory.

"You are both cleared for release," she told them. "Don't go doing something stupid again!"

"Madam, yes, Madam!" Ron and Hermione sang.

Ron and Hermione changed into their robes and left the hospital wing determined to believe everything would be fine.

* * *

"I'm so sorry! I didn't...I...You were..." Hermione sobbed collapsing along a wall before burying her face in her knees.

"Hermione, love," Severus sat down next to her placing his hand on the top of her head. "It's all over now, it'll be alright..." he didn't exactly believe the words himself, Voldemort returned...as a fraction of himself leeching off the life force of others to be sure, but he was making moves again. However, her current ordeal was over, at least for now.

Before he could think of anything else to say, she spoke between sobs. She told him what he could only imagine was _everything_. She thought he'd erased her memory because she found out about something he didn't want her too, that was right, but after the incident with Potter's broomstick, and her scanning the crowd to find him moving his lips, she thought he was trying to kill him...and she was the one to set the fire...it was only a coincidence that she stopped the right party, Quirrell. That she was particularly torn up about. She outlined spying on him in the forest and a million other circumstances over the year. He had to admit, he would have assumed his guilt as well.

"I thought you were trying to get the stone for...how could I ever have thought that for a moment?"

"I'm not sure where to start..." he breathed. "Perhaps by first admitting I'm the one that should be apologizing."

Hermione stared at him with surprise. She sat next to the wall on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and digging her nails into her hands again. Perhaps for the first time their nerves were equally wrecked. He didn't expect her to trust him again, but if he told her...he didn't know, but he did owe her that much.

Hermione shook her head "But I thought you..."

"Shh," he moved her hair from her face before wiping her eyes. "I know. I know..." he took a deep breath. "Hermione, you never would have thought that if I hadn't placed a memory charm on you. I truly thought I was doing what was best for you...I never imagined the damage it would do...thinking you were raised by a...and having to chose between what you know is right and your family. It's not a position I envy, and one I am truly sorry I put you in such a position. And you will never be put in that position again."

Hermione simply nodded, perhaps not trusting her own voice. She looked at him with a mixture of curiosity, sadness and regret; tears pooled in her large brown eyes, caught in her eyelashes and on her fell down cheeks. That haunted look...she was far too young to know the kind of regret that warranted. Yet, she spent nearly a whole year try to cover for him, to protect her friends...just wondering who she should betray if she had to chose. The poor girl...

"I'll start with Hallowe'en, I suppose..." he explained going after Quirrell, the repeated threats to her from that night forward, her insistence that she prevent Quirrell and his panicked decision to modify her memory, trying to use a countercurse on Potter's broom, adding that was why he refereed the other match, noting that she probably found that suspicious at the time and the conversation in the forest.

"After chasing Quirrell away from the corridor that afternoon I immediately wrote the headmaster to summon him back, you three knowing made the matter much more urgent. I was to meet him in the entrance hall as soon as he returned," he cupped her tiny face in his hands. "Had I _any_ idea you were going to go down that night, I would have come for you. If anything happened to you, well, I don't know what I'd do."

"Sleep at night?" she offered with a squeak.

"I doubt it," he sighed throwing an arm around her shoulders."Not with half the students enrolled in your house, anyway."

Hermione gave a weak laugh. When was the last time he'd heard that child laugh? Sure, it was a feeble attempt to end a hard conversation with no real ending on either of their parts, but it was something. Baby steps, she could bounce back from this. Resilient was never a word he'd have thought to use to describe Hermione, but he could see it now. Things would never be the same, but she had a chance of reaching something close to how she was before.

"You know," he ventured acknowledging one last thing he meant to get to. "I don't blame you. I understand how it looked to you and why I would have been the last person you wanted to turn to. However, _promise_ me that you'll come to me if you ever stumble across a plot like this again. I don't want you endangering yourself."

"Is school looking to guard another extremely dangerous artifact?"

"Promise me, Hermione," he said.

"I know this doesn't come easy for you, Dad," Hermione's voice steadied and her posture relaxed. "But _trust me, _if I never get involved in something like this again it'll be too soon."

"A sentiment I share whole-heartedly, I assure you," he sighed. "But that isn't what I asked, now is it?"

"I..." she sighed. "I'm sorry, Dad, honest I am, but..." she turned her eyes to the ground and her muscles tensed once more. "You messed with my memory. I know why you did it, and I do believe you'd take it back if you could...but, I think it'll be a while before I can make a promise like that..."

_Given everything, that's surprisingly level headed for a child, _he thought and took her hands before she could continue mutilating them absent-mindedly and spoke. "Yes, I imagine we do have to re-build trust."

A silence passed between them, Hermione staring blankly at the ground, deep in thought.

"This is a bit off topic," Hermione ventured, but he was as relieved as she was. "But I've been meaning to ask all year..."

"You've been meaning to ask?" he repeated after a silence.

"Before you met Harry," she breathed. "You decided you couldn't stand him. Why?"

"It's quite a long story, Hermione," he said. "You'll have to forgive that there are details that I both don't wish to revisit, nor do I think you're old enough to handle. I imagine you put together a while ago that I had you working on James Potter's disciplinary cases so you could have an idea of his character before his son attended school. The ones I had you copy were the _tamer_ of his lot's deeds. There was an entire year left out for that reason. I realize now that was the wrong way to go about it, but the truth is James Potter destroyed my life, and I wasn't about to let his son do the same to you."

To his surprise she nodded. "I understand, but (_Should have seen this_ _coming!_) Harry's nothing like his father. I know he's said somethings that weren't very nice to you, but from his point of view, he felt like he was being attacked and had no clue why. And I'm certain if you gave him a chance, you'd find he's incapable of even the 'tamer' things his father did. And with the wreck that I am, you should already know we're not always carbon copies of our parents, Dad."

"You're not a wreck, Hermione, and the _last_ thing I want you to be is an exact copy," he sighed and lumped form in his throat under her imploring stare. "If you're vouching for the boy, I'll give him and his little sidekick a chance."

_I don't like it, but I would have agreed to anything you asked after this year..._

* * *

Weeks went by and Harry had returned from the hospital awake and in higher spirits than either Hermione or Ron had been upon their release. Initially at least. That changed when Harry told them about his encounter with Quirrell, Voldemort attached to the back of his head and how Harry's touch put him in agony. Harry described the scene in detached vivid detail. It was self-defence, and almost accidental, but that haunted look...she knew he couldn't linger on it. Hermione would have gone through the whole year of suspecting the man who raised her five times over before living through what Harry did.

"I swear," Harry said. "I can't believe you were right all along. I should have put it together long before then!"

"He had us all fooled," Hermione shrugged. _But I should have known better... _"Has the stone really been destroyed?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Dumbledore says Nicholas Flammel and his wife wanted it that way, and that they were tired of being alive..said 'death is just one more part of life to the organized mind', erm, or something like that."

"That's bloody mental!" Ron gasped. "How can they-?"

"Everyone they knew and loved died a very long time ago," Hermione ventured. "I can't imagine it'd have been easy."

"Dumbledore made it sound a little less tragic," Harry shifted in his chair. "Oh, and I found out why your dad hates me so much."

"Yeah," Hermione sighed. "My dad told me. He didn't give the details, but I got the broad strokes."

"Do I get to hear either rendition of the story?" Ron pouted after a silence.

"Hell no," Hermione shook her head. "At least not from me."

"Erm," Harry looked down at his breakfast. "I brought it up because I thought Hermione might want to know, but if she already knows, and isn't willing to share...I don't reckon I should either."

"Thank you," Hermione bowed her head.

"Grades are posted today," Ron mumbled picking at his plate. "I think I did well, but my brothers are so good at this stuff, I don't know...I feel like rubbish next to them."

"You're not rubbish, Ron," Hermione groaned. "An insufferable prat, sure, but not rub-wait! grades are out today?! Oh, dear god! I think I'm going to be sick!"

"You'll both be fine," Harry sighed before turning to Hermione. "What reason have you to be even slightly nervous?"

"Oh, god..." Hermione pushed away her toast and burying her head on the table. "I _know_ I choked on the practicals! Kill me, Ron, do it now before the whole school sees I'm a bloody failure!"

"Are you completely mental?" Ron asked. "I'd bet any money you're top of our class. Come off it!"

Ron was right. Hermione had achieved all Outstanding's and a single Exceeds Expectations in Potions, which Ron teased her about, forgetting about the assortment of Acceptables under his own name. Despite the single E, Hermione had been, as Ron predicted, top of her year. Despite the hell of a year, it still filled her with pride. All her hard work paid off! Though the bitter voices grumbling about her being a teacher's daughter undercut it...If she could copy this performance in Japan then she could be sure it was completely _her_ victory.

"Don't listen to those jerks," Fred said finding them in a crowd.

"Yeah," George appeared on her other side. "You were top witch _and _you stopped You-Know-Who from getting that stone!"

"_Harry _stopped the Dark Lord from getting the stone," Hermione sighed. "_Ron _got us passed the chess set. Listen to the rumours, I was incidental."

"I-I only got there by luck," Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Luck and you two."

"Come off it, you two!" Ron groaned. "Are you two fishing for compliments or did the Dursleys and Snape warp you so badly?"

"Stop comparing him to them!" Hermione hissed.

Fred slipped an arm around Ron. "You three are incredible! The whole school is abuzz about it!"

"Dumbledore's going to _have_ to acknowledge you in the year-end feast tonight!" George laughed.

The green and silver decorations in the hall dulled the bright mood of the Weasleys, Harry and Neville. Hermione wished she cared, maybe it was because her father was the head of another house? Maybe it was because she thought house divisions were stupid in the first place? Years of seeing hostilities between houses from the outside? She wondered if Mahoukatoro would place her in a house...

Dumbledore gave his year end speech, congratulated Slytherin to luke warm applause and then took the entire Great Hall by surprise by saying he wanted to give out some last minute points to four exemplary students.

"I have been told," he chuckled peering at her father over his glasses. "That rewarding students for risking their lives was a terrible idea, so with that concerned party in mind, I must warn you not to recklessly endanger your lives. That will not earn you anything but trouble. But that is not what these students did. These students did what they did in the interest of others, not themselves. They risked their lives for the greater good and I believe they should be recognized for it.

"Oh, but before I do so, for the sake of that concerned party-" he glanced at her father again "-Should anyone believe the safety of themselves or others is at risk, they should first report to any one of us. Forgive us, but I must repeat the adage you've all heard from your parents, find an adult when things are serious. Now for the fun part!..."

Dumbledore awarded Ron fifty points for beating McGonagall's chess set, which Percy, Fred and George all beamed with pride to the applause with loud "That's my youngest brother!" The tips of Ron's ears turned pink and she expected him to sink under the praise, but despite the furious blushing, he grinned and thanked everyone praising him. He had his moment in the sun, and Hermione finally understood why he saw what he saw in the mirror.

Hermione was the next to be mentioned and she felt a thousand eyes on her, her stomach churned and her blood froze in her veins. She took in deep breaths, clasped her hands and sank her nails into the gaps between her fingers trying to stay the pounding of her heart. She nearly died, why did those damn eyes bother her so much? She didn't even hear what Dumbledore was saying. Was that applause sincere? Sarcastic? Pity? How could she know? Why did she care? She prayed he would move on to Harry. How could Ron stand this? Hermione lowered her head to the table and shut her eyes.

"And to Harry Potter," Dumbledore said after what seemed to be forever. He rewarded Harry one-hundred points for his bravery in the face of insurmountable odds, selflessness and determination. Nearly die at the hands of the man who murdered your parents and get points for your school house. Hermione raised her head now that it was safe and saw that Harry wasn't as bitter at the idea as she was. Harry was smiling, taking in the applause and congratulations from those around him. He looked at Hermione and she smiled at him as she joined the applause. For once Harry seemed completely at ease with himself and the attention. She hoped that ease would stay. If anyone deserved to learn to like themselves, it was Harry.

"And I did believe I mentioned four students," Dumbledore said lifting his hands to quieten the crowd. "I would finally like to reward ten points to Neville Longbottom..." For trying to stop them, but Hermione understood why, to reinforce Neville standing up for himself, even if it's his friends.

But what the hell was Dumbledore thinking? Neville was going to react to the spotlight just like she did. Neville was fragile he couldn't...

Neville was pink-faced and a bit embarrassed, but he beamed as other Gryffindors pat him on the back and congratulated him. They even seemed sincere! Hermione took his hands and smiled at him congratulating him before apologizing for the perhaps fiftieth time since that night. Neville's face became more pink, she let go of his hands and clapped. If other's weren't sincere she would be, but she was happy that the applause didn't seem insincere.

Gryffindor won the cup with the new additions and the Hall erupted with applause and cheering, thrilled to finally have another house win. If Hermione failed to be happy about that, she would damn well be happy for her friends! Which, she was. They seemed so happy, at ease, she watched Harry and Ron joke around with the twins. Neville was finally being spoken to like a humanbeing by his classmates. It was beautiful to see him sitting up right and finishing his sentences when speaking to others. Was it dumb that she was proud of her friend? She was proud of all of them. Hermione could have watched the moment forever but was taken aback by Ron.

"You're awful quiet," he said. "Still thinking about that E?"

They all burst into laughter and Hermione didn't know whether it was with or at her. She let out a fake nervous laugh, trying to look unbothered. "It will haunt me eternally!" she said in a dramatic and sarcastic voice.

They all laughed and this time she found warmth behind their eyes and in their smiles. A whole damn year to realise it, but she knew then that they actually _liked_ her. Not pitied, not tolerated, but liked. A thought she'd previously considered dumb whenever it crossed her mind.

* * *

"I never did ask," Harry said. "What are you doing this summer?"

The three of them were gathered at the bridge before they had to load into the carriages. Students cheered and laughed in droves, all promising to write, some hugging, older couples embracing and kissing. It was bittersweet, they all would be free for two whole months, but most would only communicate with their friends via letter. The June sun bathed the bridge and both Harry and Ron seemed oddly serene basking in the golden glow.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Can't be spending all summer in Gyffindor Tower as well."

"_Far _from it!" Hermione beamed, she hadn't told a soul. "I'm going to Japan! _Japan!"_

"Wow," Ron scoffed. "Snape must feel awful about the year to take you to meet your boyfriend."

"First of all," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hiro is _not _my boyfriend. And second is my dad's not taking me. I'm going on my own! I've never been _anywhere_ on my own before. I'm spending July at the Japanese Wizarding School. Their summer break is only August in Japan."

"More school?!" Ron gasped. "That's mental! Haven't you worked hard enough?"

"I don't reckon you mind that, eh?" Harry asked with a knowing smile.

"Not at all!" she smiled. "I've never seen anything beyond these walls, unless you count that one afternoon to in Diagon Alley. _Nothing can ruin this!_"

"Well," Ron chuckled. "If you're not too busy you should write us. Fred and George told me to tell you they felt neglected, you should write them too!"

"I'll write them if I have time," she shrugged. "But I'll make time for you!"

"Hermione..." Ron gulped.

"Okay, that was stupid," she shrank. "I'll write all three of you, I just...I know that you feel...erm...next to your brothers...erm...Shit!"

"I think Hermione was trying to say she values you beyond your connection to your family," Harry laughed. "Promise you'll work on your people skills?"

"I'm going to have to in Japan!" she rolled her eyes. "I'll write you too, Harry. Try not to be too miserable at the Dursleys?"

"I've already asked Mum to invite him over for the summer!" Ron beamed. "I can't imagine her saying no!"

"That's brilliant!"she said. "Write me about whatever fabulous misadventure you idiots find yourselves in over the summer?"

"Of course," Harry said. "I can't wait till next year though. Once you come back from Japan alive you might be allowed to take a step or two outside!"

"One can dream, Harry."


	15. Mahoukatoro Interlude1 Part One

"Are you absolutely _certain_ about this?" asked Severus watching his daughter pack.

"_You_ signed me up for this, Dad," Hermione sighed making eye-contact and setting a stack of note books gingerly in her suitcase.

"I know, love," he leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. "But I didn't consult you beforehand. I wouldn't blame you. I can say you changed your mind, that you fell ill, that you-"

"Have never looked forward to anything more in my life?" Hermione stared up at him, her face and tone both serious, her eyes seeming to stare into his very soul. "It's thirty-one days, Dad. One month for the next five years, I can do that. It'll all be fine."

Hermione was nearly twelve, but looked younger with her small stature, round olive face under a mountain of bushy hair and large brown eyes that so often stared at him imploringly as of late. This wasn't the first time they had this conversation since school let out. He didn't like the idea of sending her out to another continent by herself. At least not now that the threat to her has passed. She'd been through a lot this past year, but she was still a child, _his_ child...sending her away went from a solution to a problem to the problem.

Perhaps he worried too much, but looking at Hermione he could hardly imagine her fairing well. Despite being sorted into Gryffindor, she had a fragile and nervous disposition, one that made her prone to illness and nasty behaviours like digging her nails into her hands or biting her lip until she drew blood, she _hated _crowds, she obsessed over her work to the point that she'd even forget to eat or sleep. Being on her own in _Japan_ was not going to helpful in that respect. He couldn't imagine it would do her any good at all.

_"You want me to write a referral for her to go to Mahoukatoro?" McGonagall smirked. "I'm more than happy to, but I have to say, Severus, I can't believe _you _agreed to let her go. You keep such a tight grip on the poor girl, this will be so good for her!"_

He hoped that the wizened head mistress was right about it being good for her, but he doubted it. And had Hermione not said things like _that, _he would have put a stop to the nonsense long before now. But...she did look forward to it so. The girl floated around their living quarters for the past week with a rare gleam in her eye and a smile on her face. And Headmaster Yamato assured him, multiple times, that she would be perfectly safe. He wanted to believe it.

"Actually," he corrected. "Japanese wizards attend school until they're twenty. The last three years are more targeted toward a career path, but they are mandatory. So you'd be there for the next seven Julys. It's probably a strange custom for a British witch, so if you don't want to commit to such a program, I understand."

"I _want_ to go, Dad," Hermione sighed. "Even after knowing that, I still want to go. Am I angry that you signed me up for summer school until I'm twenty without even talking to me? I mean, I should be, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little disappointed, but I'm going to _Japan_. Japan! The idea is exhilarating!"

That girl would have been leaping in excitement if she were simply going to London. Her little quill-mate might have made Mahoukatoro preferable, but unlike the other students at Hogwarts, the idea of leaving filled her with an almost incomparable joy...or a case of the nerves. Hermione had some trouble picking a mood and sticking with it.

"I had a feeling you might say that," he sighed handing her a small, black leather bound journal. "I've enchanted this so we can communicate without the week, or sometimes longer, delay from message by bird half way across the globe. I expect you to write me _daily_."

"Daily?" Hermione blinked. "But there's like a-"

"Nine hour time difference?" he asked. "I'm aware. If you write me in the evening, I'll be receiving it in the morning. Completely manageable."

Hermione nodded and gingerly took the book. "Yessir..."

"When you're older you'll understand why I'm asking this," he said resting a hand on the top of her head. "Japan isn't exactly the continent, now is it? If something were to happen, it could be week before I hear about it."

"But what do you expect to happen?" Hermione sighed sitting on her bed. "Mahoukatoro is almost as safe as Hogwarts, and Yamato-sama Sensei has assured you he'd be keeping an eye on me. I couldn't find danger even if I wanted to."

"We both know that isn't true, Hermione Elizabeth," he countered. "The danger you put yourself into time and time again this past year proves you can. _You nearly died, Hermione."_

"I know..." she sighed tilting her head and offering a weak smile. "I'll write every evening, Dad. But I promise, you won't have anything to worry about."

"That's not exactly a promise you can make now, is it?" he asked sitting next to her and resting his hand on her head again.

"I, erm," she took a deep breath. "No, I guess not."

"But you _can _promise you won't be intentionally sniffing around anything dangerous while you're there."

"That I can," she gave a weak laugh. "I have absolutely no intention of a repeat performance of May."

"That makes both of us," he got up and scanned the tiny bedroom. "Now, today is the last day I can send Archimedes out in time to cancel are you absolutely certain that you want to do this?"

"Yes, Dad," Hermione still gave a weak smile, but he could hear the exasperation in her voice, and he felt she was straining not to roll her eyes. "I want to go!"

* * *

"You look pale," her father observed as Hermione ran through her list.

"I'm not sick, Dad," she sang with an eye roll.

"Let me check," he strode over to her and pressed a hand to her forehead. "You do seem a bit cold..." he moved his hand to her cheeks and neck. "Now, I know we've talked about the eyerolling, Hermione."

_Loads of times,_ she thought but resisted to roll her eyes again. "I'm fine, Dad, honestly!"

"The tone, Hermione Elizabeth," he said in a rather detached automatic voice as he continued to check for any excuse to say she was too ill to go.

Hermione's flesh was cold, and she probably did look pale as she barely slept the last two nights from a mixture of excitement and nerves. She really did want to go, but now that it the day was upon her, she was also worried. What if Hiro didn't like her when they'd actually met? What if she couldn't pronounce any of the words correctly? Or messed up with her chopsticks in the dining hall? What if all the teachers hated the girl who got into the program by pure nepotism? What if Kaori and all the other girls hated her? What if Hiro didn't like her? Wait, that was the first concern she had..._I'm not fussing over some boy I've never met!_ Hermione told herself. But if his reception of her was anything different than that in the letters she received every week or so than it would devastate her..._No, you idiot! You're going to Japan! I want to go and I am thrilled about this! And Hiro is _not _the only reason I am!_

"Apparating so far will be taxing on both of us, so you'll likely feel a bit off colour when you arrive," her father said tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You'll want to be prepared for that. Do you remember last year when we went to get your school things and you asked me if Diagon Alley is always so crowded?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded cautiously.

"Muggle Tokyo is much, much worse. Don't talk to _anyone_ if they don't ask for you by name. It'll be a bit better where it's night, but it'll still be crowded enough that it'll be very easy to get lost. Of all places to send you beforehand, muggle Tokyo!" he spat before continuing. "Yamato described himself and his daughter-in-law in his letter to you, yes? Good, she'll be taking you into her home where Headmaster Yamato will bring you to the school. You'll be jet-lagged, you should take a sleeping draught upon arrival so you can be more aware during your orientation the next morning. It's going to be much, much hotter than you're used to..."

Her father continued on like this for a while. It was as if he were trying to address every possible problem that could come up while she was away. She knew why, he was usually paranoid, and her involvement in claiming the stone before Voldemort could have only justified his paranoia in his mind. He couldn't convince her to stay home with him, so this, and the instant-messaging journal, was the best he could do.

"You will...?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Not speak to a soul in Muggle Tokyo, listen to Yamato-sama Sensei and the other professors, not stray from my guides, follow their customs (she was so looking forward to taking part in them that she didn't have to be told!), focus on my studies and write you every evening after classes."

"Just in case you get separated from myself or the Yamatos," her father sighed. "If you perform magic in self-defense no one will hold you accountable. Be ready to do so if you need to. Remember those five spells I taught you?"

"Expelliarmus, Protego, the temporary blinding hex, muffilatio, and stupefy."

"And if you run into trouble?"

"Sheild myself from attacks, disarm my attacker, blind them, ensure they can't hear me and run like hell," she recited. "All else fails attempt to stun them and scream 'fire' to summon witnesses."

He did not seem even slightly relieved by her recitation of his protocols. He stared at her, his skin paler than usual and his grip on her shoulder tightened, as if he were the one going away to a foreign country for the first time. Hermione recognized that this was not just her first time being away from her father, but his first time being away from her probably since she had been born. Given his paranoia, it can't have been easy. And she couldn't shake the feeling that if wasn't for the guilt he felt he would have never allowed this. This would be good for both of them...she hoped.

"But of course I won't need any of that," she offered, forcing a smile. "Everything is going to turn out _fine,_ Dad. I'll write you the _instant_ I'm at the school. _Nothing _is going to happen." _I might be more convincing if I believed it..._ Every instance of her father describing the world as cold and disinterested at best and cruel and dangerous at its worst filled her mind. Even after having made friends, some part of her still believed the rhetoric he'd fed her her whole life.

"One can hope," he said, unconvinced before placing a hand on her head. "I'm still not convinced you're ready for something like this..."

_I'm not sure it's me who's not ready, Dad..._ she thought but looked down realizing her body language wasn't exactly projecting confidence. She was digging at her hands again. She immediately unclasped her hands and straightened her spine before attempting another assuring smile. "You didn't raise an idiot, Dad. I am taking every necessary precaution. Nothing will go wrong. I have everything _completely under control._" _I have to..._

"Assurances I've heard before, love," he sighed. "But as much as I'd like to, I don't believe I can keep you here forever. One o'clock, it'll be ten in Tokyo. You have absolutely everything you need?"

"Yes, Dad, I have everything I need." It was only the hundredth time he asked that day. "Are you going to be okay?"

This time he offered a weak smile. "Of course I will be fine. It's you I'm worried about. At least I'll get to see you off. Are you ready?"

* * *

"I am _never _going to get used to that!" Hermione groaned emerging from the alley way behind the building trying to shake the spinning. "I swear-"

She stopped dead in her tracks. Bright lights hanging from poles and wires or casting out from a hundred windows bathed the packed streets in artificial lights of colours she wasn't even sure she had seen before. People walked about, almost shoulder to shoulder, she didn't know how some of them didn't knock into each other. Voices echoed in the square, wires hummed and the cars careened down the street, starting and stopping sometimes accompanied by the long drone of a horn. Was this how muggles lived? This... this was horrifying. So much commotion.

The world spun around her and her heart pounded in her ears. Pins and needles stabbed at her feet as she tried to move forward, and she couldn't stop herself from jumping the crosswalk beeped over head. She didn't exactly long the familiar grey walls she grew up with in, but she was close to it. She'd never seen so many people, lights, had been unaware that cars made sounds and she was certain she had forgotten all her Japanese.

_It's just a bit of noise, you coward! _Hermione thought bitterly and braced herself for her father's gloating 'I told you so's which she'd be stuck with until they reached Yamato-san's.

"It's alright, love," her father said taking her hand. "It's just a crossing light. Mrs. Yamato's building can't be far. Come along."

_No "I told you so?" _Hermione thought quietly following him, clinging to his arm as if she were six rather than nearly twelve. _Who are you and what have done with my father?!_

Hermione and her father weaved through the tightly pack sidewalks, Hermione muttering "Sumimasen!" with a bow the countless times she bumped into someone, or someone bumped into her. She wanted the pavement to swallow her when she felt the eyes of the locals on her, probably beholding the ridiculous foreign girl with contempt. _Don't be so narcissistic, they have more important things to worry about than a stupid gaijin girl!_

They stood in the entry way of the apartment building and Hermione double checked her letter to ensure she pressed the right button. She took in a deep breath, pressed the button, and to her chagrin the loud buzzing drone gave her a start. She nearly died to a giant cerebus, devil's snare and murder keys (she refused to call them anything else!) Were chimes, buzzing and crowds really going to frighten her?

Her father rested a comforting hand on her head and sighed. "How are you feeling, little girl?"

"Fine. I-I'm fine," she said, barely above a whisper. _Get a hold of yourself! Shit!  
_

"In that case," he sighed. "I _did _tell you this would all be quite overwhelming."

"_There _it is!" Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smirk. "I was wondering when you'd start. For a moment I was convinced _you_ were a changeling."

"I'm not a _complete _monster, love," he said."Of course I was going to wait until you were able to breathe again. Though I see I failed to put a stop to those ridiculous rumours before you started. I'm sorry you had to hear them. At least that won't be a concern for you here."

"Just tell me I wasn't bought and sold for a single head or lettuce and I'll be thrilled!" she laughed. _And that I wasn't plucked from a rubbish bin behind a take-away..._

"A testament to the originality of your peers, Hermione," he sighed. "I can't believe the rumour _literally plagiarizing _a muggle fairy tale is still flying around."

"So no kernel or truth in that one," she laughed. "I knew I was worth at least two heads of lettuce!"

"At least," he agreed mussing her hair.

"Konbenwa!" a small voice greeted with a bow.

They turned to the lady at the door who let them in. Looking exactly like Yamato-sama Sensei described; she was slender, on the taller side for a Japanese woman, with dark brown eyes and long black hair tied in a single braid she slung over her shoulder, looking to be around the right age (mid-thirties). What he didn't describe was her delicate heart shaped face and her inviting smile. She was warm, inviting and so beautiful.

_You think every new woman or girl you meet is beautiful..._ Hermione scorned herself knowing it came from a place of deep insecurity and probably the little exposure she was allowed to enjoy before starting school.

Hermione and her father bowed in return. She greeted Yamato-san and introduced the two of them.

Yamato Minako lead the two of them into her flat, and Hermione was shocked. Not a mark could be found on the pristine white walls , the wooden floor hadn't a scratch, and her living room opposite a small kitchen separated by a long counter, could have passed for either a miniature library or cat rescue. A cat-tree sat between the gaps of either long, tall shelf and two cats sat on each, while a yellow maine coon perched on the couch and a very fat long haired calico with folded ears ran to greet them before they could even finish taking their shoes off.

Six cats in one small apartment, how did she keep everything so clean? A question Hermione dismissed as soon as she asked herself as the fat calico leapt into her arms, purring. "Kawaii neko!" Hermione squealed rubbing her neck to an amused expression from Yamato Minako and a curious expression from her father.

"Fuku misses Kaori and Hiro. Come in! My father-in-law will pick you up soon," she urged them in. "I'll put on the tea. British people drink black tea normally, yeah?"

"Hi, arigato, Yamato-san," Hermione nodded, following her into the kitchen, letting Fuku's purrs travel through her tense body.

"You're so lucky to teach at the school she boards at," Yamato Minako sighed addressing her father.

"Sumimasen,Yamato-san," he said slowly with a bow. "My Japanese is not..."

"English then?" she said switching to the language with a smile. "We all have to learn English in school...but forgive my bad speaking!"

_Bad speaking? You're English is on par with my Japanese..._ Hermione gulped, sitting down and still clinging to the cat.

"It's much better than my Japanese," her father shrugged. "I'm-" he abandoned the thought, perhaps uncertain how the language barrier would affect whatever he was about to say.

Hermione watched the two adults make stilted conversation and wondered about that first thing she said to her father before realizing he didn't speak Japanese. Yamato Minako was a muggle, completely detached from her children's world, her husband died years ago, and Hiro and Kaori were gone eleven months of the year, and she never re-married. She seemed sweet, so she thought she must have friends, but looking around the apartment and the six cats, she wondered if all Yamato Minako had were her children. Such a lonely and sad existence.

She wondered if it was the same for her father briefly. He didn't exactly have _friends _among the staff...and she'd never seen him leave to meet anyone without direct orders from Dumbledore. Was he lonely with only her for company? Hermione pushed the thought from her mind before it could make her feel guilty for leaving. All children left their parents, this was normal, and she wasn't going to have it ruined because she pitied her father for imagined circumstances.

A loud pop interrupted an awkward silence between the three of them, sending Fuku to her perch in a calico blur! The sound was clearly someone apparating into the room, but it still made Hermione leap from her chair and her father throw an arm around her shoulders turning to the new figure in the room.

"Good evening, Ito-san," Yamato Minako beamed before bowing.

"Evening, Minako-chan," replied an elderly Japanese man with a very long white beard, hair and mustache in golden robes. That must've been Yamato-sama Sensei.

_Shit! First time meeting a superior but it's evening! Do I say Ohayo or Konbenwa? _Hermione bowed silently wondering if not saying anything was better or worse. The silence continued. Hermione took in a deep breath, still bowed she tried to speak. "O-Kon-hey-benyo! (_What the _hell _was _that?!). Gah! Gomenesai!"

"You're not the first student in the program to be tripped up by that, Hermione," he smiled patiently, his hazel eyes twinkling in a familiar knowing fashion. _Don't call Yamato-sama Sensei Japanese Dumbledore..._ she scolded herself.

"Thank you," she bowed, still feeling humiliated.

Once again, Hermione watched as adults talked about her, but Yamato-sama Sensei's English was much better than Yamato Minako's, so the converstaion was much less stilted. She stood in silence as her father painted her as grateful and hardworking, but also extremely fragile. His thanks for suggesting and allowing her to take part in the program seemingly undercut by what seemed to be his trying to convince the headmaster she was made of glass. Perhaps that was the price she paid for leaving.

"Hermione," her father placed a hand on her head. "Remember everything we've talked about before leaving?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

He held out his other hand with all five fingers, Hermione caught his meaning. He didn't want to advocate she use any of harmful spells in front of the headmaster, but he wanted to know she knew them in case something happened on school grounds. She nodded.

Hermione had expected meeting and speaking with the Yamatos would have made him feel more confident in his decision, but she could still see the apprehension in his face as the time to send her off was at hand. This would have been so much easier if they had said their goodbyes in Britain and she left to meet them on her own. Save the logistics of getting into the country.

"Stay safe, remember to write, and _behave_," he instructed before drawing her into a hug.

The two said their goodbyes and Hermione was torn between skipping to Yamato-sama Sensei and begging to go back. After cursing herself for that she approached the old man politely, bowed to Yamato Minako, thanking her and waved good bye to both her and her father before linking her arm into Yamato-sama Sensei's. She felt the now familiar pulling at her navel and with a loud pop, Yamato Minako's immaculate cat filled apartment was replaced with a remote rocky beach under a network of twinkling stars.

She heard the crashing of the waves below and the cry of birds over head. The salt air filled her lungs and it occurred to her, despite growing up in Scotland, Hermione had not once seen the ocean. Waves danced below her, in what seemed like an endless stretch of water and the movement was near entrancing. The blue water beneath the starlit sky, the forest of a million trees she'd never seen before, the rock croppings jutting out of the water...it was all so beautiful.

The warm salt breeze wafted around her, and that with the ocean seemed to be the only movement. Had she ever experienced such a comfortable stillness before?

"How are you with heights?" Yamato-sama asked.

"Heights?" she asked dreamily.

The cawing drew closer and Hermione's serenity vanished. Landing on the beach before them was a giant storm petrels, its massive wings blocking the starlight. It landed lightly, but still disturbed the grass and trees around it. She stared into its massive grey eyes and her heart threatened to burst from her chest. A giant petrel? Why-

Her question was answered when Yamato-sama mounted the great beast's back with surprising ease for a man his age.

_ Is it too late to ask to swim? Worst that can happen? Cast out to sea? I'll take it!_

Hermione swallowed and approached with light foot steps. She took Yamato-sama's hand and climbed onto the bird's back behind him and begged for it to be all over. The warm wind Hermione once found nice now roared against her ears with a chill, she felt like she was being slapped by it. The bird's massive wings flapped behind her legs with incredible force, and she couldn't help but cling to the old man in front of her. _Eyes closed, if I don't see it...Nope! It's totally real. I hope we get there soon._

Hermione's prayer's were answered as an opalescent tiered castle perched a top a mountain covered in foliage came into view. She was certain this was the highest point on the island. The bird landed on a clear path. Once Hermione regained her bearings she stood frozen before the scene before her. Was this real?

Stone steps bathed in golden lamplight led up to a Shinto gate ( _Torii, _she thought she read somewhere) before another set of steps leading up to the castle proper. It was everything she imagined, towering over them, both foreboding and inviting, the untamed forest enveloping them, the fresh mountain air. A stream even trickled down the mountain beside the path. Maybe it was her life as a shut-in, but at that moment, Hermione was certain she could live a thousand years and never see anything so wonderful.

Yamato-sama led her up the stairs under the Shinto chords and talismans hung over the grand arching door. The entrance hall greeted her with spotless wood flooring, ornate rice paper dividers, painted with intricate designs of the ocean, the castle, the island, cherry blossoms and bamboo forests. A set of stairs directly opposite them led up to the distance. Hermione followed in silence as she listened to Yamato-sama recite the more important rules. She would have to read up on them later, she should have been listening, but she simply couldn't believe any of this was real. Being there in Mahoukatoro, it seemed less real than the whole crazy year she had just finished.

_Oh, dear god,am I Japan-fetishist? _Hermione pushed the thought from her mind. Loads of people adored other lands and cultures from their own, and they weren't all confined to one small section of castle their whole lives.

"The dormitory for girls is right through there," he pointed down the corridor lit with paper lanterns. She gingerly tiptoed to the door . "We have rooms in the dormitory separated in pairs by year. Your dormmate will be a girl in your year named Okasha Saiyaka. You'll meet Hiro and Kaori for orientation after breakfast."

* * *

Hermione gingerly slid back the door to find a large room, beside the door were a row of shelves with what must've been a hundred pairs of shoes. One row sported black shoes, the other white. _Must be a small group if it's two per girl, that means there's only fifty girls boarding total. _The rest of the room was quite cozy, a long, low black table with several cushions set up around it sat on a red rug in the centre of the room, two higher tables shoved in each corner with four chairs set up around them and two sofas sat opposite each other on either side of a large window, whose sill was also cushioned. _Must be the girls' common room?_

She climbed the stairs quietly and looked for room 217. She found it easily enough as the numbers hung on the side of each sliding door. She knocked first, unsure if her new roommate was still awake, but she could see the warm golden glow of a light through the rice paper.

The door slide open to reveal a girl with dark brown hair in braided twintails, round glasses almost hidden by her fringe, darker olive skin and a shy smile on her face. Releif washed over Hermione, she didn't know what she expected, but Okasha Saiyaka seemed as nervous about this whole affair as she was.

"Sumimasen!" Hermione bowed and then introduced herself.

Okasha Saiyaka nodded and let her into the room.

The room was small, an open window let in starlight and a warm summer breeze. Two futons and two desks sat on either side of the window. The one Okasha Saiyaka sat at was piled high with books and papers. Hermione took the chair opposite her and set down the journal her father gave her, quickly scribbling a message into it while Saiyaka organized her books and papers.

_Dad,_

_Arrived safely. I have to be up for orientation at six local time and already near asleep from the draught. I'll let you know how everything goes tomorrow!_

_Love,_

_Hermione._

She shut the book and turned her attention to her flustered roommate, who nervously laughed. An uncomfortable silence passed, and Hermione had the distinct feeling Saiyaka didn't start too many conversations. Both stared at their bare feet a a grey cat leapt up on to Saiyaka's desk and knocked over her tower of homework.

"Momo!" she groaned getting to her knees.

Hermione leapt to her feet and started to help Saiyaka. "Is everything intact, Okasha-san?" she asked in a small voice once everything was put back in place, in order and colour-coded.

"You can call me Saiyaka if you want," she smiled playing with her braid.

"You can call me Hermione," she smiled back.

The two girls started chatting away the night in hushed voices. Saiyaka's small voice told her she wasn't used to talking about herself. However, with some gentle prodding, she found out Saiyaka grew up in Okinawa, was muggle-born, her parents were still married, and she had an older half-sister named Meiko who was a muggle, and by her account a great beauty of even greater intellect. Hermione wondered if her parents favoured her sister, but pushed it from her mind and insisted she wanted to know about her, not her sister.

With a nervous smile, she continued. Saiyaka loved animals and thought she wanted to be a magizoologist, but she didn't know yet. "Oh, listen to me go on about myself!" she buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry! Please, tell me about yourself."

"Well..." Hermione thought about her mysterious origins, isolated childhood, making top of her year, her misadventures with a troll and through the trapdoor..."There isn't much to tell. Just an over-achieving daughter of a British professor," she shrugged.


	16. Mahoukatoro Interlude 1 Part Two

Sunlight poured through the open window and Hermione stretched with a yawn, thrilled that she was still in the small dormitory, in a futon opposite a girl curled up with a fat grey cat. She rose and looked out the window, forest and cleared trails stretched out below her, an almost emerald sheen cast on the ground from the sunlight. She craned her neck to gaze into the ocean far below them, sparkling a radiant blue in the pink and orange sunrise. She had to get dressed, but she wanted to stare out into the picturesque scene below her.

It was all real! Muggle Tokyo, meeting Yamato Minako, being collected by the headmaster himself, the nauseating flight on the back of a massive storm petrel, Sayaika, everything! She could barely contain herself as she looked around her. She would be _meeting_ Hiro and Kaori! Her heart thudded in her chest, not for the first time since her arrival, but this time it wasn't nerves. She was elated!

"Ohayo!" Saiyaka greeted her, smiling as she put her glasses on. "Looking forward to classes?"

Hermione nodded with a smile. The girls got dressed into their pale pink robes, and grabbed their bags before heading down to breakfast together.

"We have transfiguration first," Sayaika explained as they wound through the ornate corridors to the meal hall. "Then we have Magical History, DADA, then we have Yokai Studies before lunch."

"Y-Yokai Studies," Hermione whispered. "We didn't have anything like that in Britain..."

"It's okay," Saiyaka adjusted her glassed with a nervous laugh."Think of it like Care for Magical Creatures, but instead with intelligent spirits."

"Erm, Saiyaka?" Hermione swallowed. She read through Yamato-sama's letter several times, but she was drawing a blank on the new subjects. She remembered there were many, and that they took 7 classes in summer term and 7 classes in winter term. Third year on, they add up to 6 electives, and mandatory club involvement kicks in (as a July Program Student, Hermione had to join them right away). "When do you guys start Care for Magical Creatures? We don't till third year."

"First boarding year," she explained. "Once we board we take fourteen subjects, and we narrow it down as we progress in years. Either by choice or by failing out. It's quite a to-do, but I want to do all fourteen plus all offered electives till seventh boarding year, then I'll have what I need no matter what I choose for my training years."

That was something Hermione would do, she felt like Saiyaka would be a good friend by the month's end.

"You would do that, wouldn't you?" a boy's voice groaned.

"Matou-san!" Saiyaka squeaked. "Sorry! I'll get out of your way."

Matou was a tall boy about their age with neat black hair, pale skin and hateful black eyes wearing pristine pink robes and a sneer that curdled Hermione's blood. Did every bloody school have a Draco Malfoy?

"Who are you?" he turned his gaze to Hermione. "Are you the July-exchange student for our year?"

Hermione nodded shrinking beneath his gaze as a rather pretty girl looking quite a bit like him came up to his side. _Twins?_

"Shiro!" she whined clinging to his arm. Not his twin.

_Of course someone like that would look for someone who looked just like him. _"Rie-chan, meet the July student for our year."

"Oh?" she laughed. "Of course the muggle-lover would pair her with Okasha. You're new and don't know anything yet, but there is a reason Okasha has no friends. Even for a-"

Hermione was about ready to speak when a cold female voice snapped from behind them. "Don't you idiots have somewhere to be?"

"Yes, Yamato-san," they grumbled before stalking off into the distance.

Hermione turned to see a tall, younger echo of Yamato Minako. This was Kaori, standing before them, with an air of unwavering confidence. Kaori had the same sweet, pale heart shaped face as her mother, dark brown eyes fringed with long lashes, her long black hair trailed past her waist with her forelocks tied behind her head with a red bow, she was slender, but didn't look weak, the gold-trim on her pink robes told Hermione she performed very well, and the only thing that seemed to remotely register as a flaw to Hermione was a single pronounced canine tooth that was revealed when she smiled. And even that Hermione found cute. Hiro was right to be intimidated by his sister, she seemed so perfect. _I'm hopeless!_

"Hermione-chan?" she asked with a smile. "I know you've seen my picture, but we haven't met. I'm Kaori. Hiro will be waiting for us at breakfast. He wouldn't shut up all week about you coming!"

"Thank you, Senpai," Sayaika bowed to her.

"You _need_ to start standing up for yourself, Saiyaka-kun! Top of your year and you're just letting Matou Shiro push you around!"

The three girls made their way over to the dinning hall, where they came upon a very long table where both students and faculty sat, there must have been close to two hundred people all told at the table and Hermione didn't know how they navigated conversations over meals with so much noise, so close. A boy with messy black hair waved the three of them over. Hermione knew who waved them over in an instant when she saw his pale olive skin, round face and smiling hazel eyes, the boy was Hiro.

"Hermi-chan!" Hiro beamed as Hermione sat beside him.

Kaori took a cushion between him and a girl with short black hair tied who greeted her with a wide smile.

"Miyuki-chan, this is Hermione!" Kaori introduced.

"Hi!" she waved. "I'm Hitoromi Miyuki!"

Sayaika sat on Hermione's other side, but didn't engage Hiro, Kaori or Miyuki.

"Oh, Hermi-chan," Hiro said pointing across from him.

Two boys, one a petite Japanese boy with black hair and eyes behind square glasses, and the other an average height dark-skinned boy with cropped dark brown hair and brown eyes and a sea of freckles. They smiled and nodded at her.

"This is Mitzubitshi Toshio," Hiro introduced. "And Johnson Samuel, he's the July student for our year."

"You can call me Sam," he smiled.

"American?" Hermione ventured by his accent.

"Sorry, Canadian. Prince Edward Island to be specific," he corrected with a shrug. "You're British, right?"

"Oh, erm, sorry," Hermione bowed in apology. "Yeah, grew up in Scotland, but I know I have my Dad's accent. English of some kind."

"You don't know where your father grew up?" Hiro asked.

"He never talks about his past," Hermione shrugged feeling rather put on the spot and regretting her honesty. "Erm, Hiro-kun, how's your past week been?"

Like Kaori, Hiro had a pronounced canine that added a mischievous flair to his smile, under his untidy black hair, his hazel eyes shone as he described the most recent exploits of _the Mahoukatoro Mercury _the student run news paper, he, Kaori, Miyuki, Sam and Toshio all worked on. The socially awkward boy in Hiro's letters revealed himself from time to time during the meal, but it seemed his struggles after joining the school paper mostly vanished. She didn't mind it though, this Hiro seemed so much more at ease with himself, and still as kind and funny.

She wondered how Hiro could have ever struggled to make friends. Hermione found herself unable to break her focus, enraptured in every word, even more so than she had been by his letters. And his voice, she could listen to him speak all day, and judging by Sam and Toshio, Hermione was not the only one taken by his presence.

The food was infinitely better than the Hogwarts breakfasts, instead of focusing on eggs and bacon, she had steamed rice, an assortment of pickled vegetables and seaweed and a small bowl of honey dew. Though looking at the small dishes assorted in front of her and the others she felt bad for the house-elves who did the dishes.

Melodic chimes rang through the hall and Hermione rose with the rest of them after another 'thanks for the food'. Sayaika bowed and promised to meet her in their dorm, and Hiro excitedly took to the task of showing her around the school.

After corridors of classrooms and a co-ed common room, Hiro led her to an expansive garden that seemed to break the laws of physics bathed in golden sunlight. Sakura blooms opened, despite the season, on their towering trees like fluffy pink clouds in the crisp blue sky, a stone path lined with red lantern houses every few meters wound around the garden, a red bridge arched over a stream, and coy pond, willows in full bloom blew in the breeze and at the treeline Hermione spied another red structure with a pointed brown roof by the tree line with on a stone platform that she recognized as a shrine.

"This," she breathed trying to conjure the words in Japanese. "Is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Hiro smiled with a laugh. "This is one of four gardens on the edge of the forest, we have one for each cardinal direction. South is the smallest, but my favourite. Y-you said in one of your letters you wanted to see cherry blossoms in person, so I wanted to show you the one where we've planted the most."

"B-but I wrote that letter a year ago," Hermione gasped. "I can't believe you remembered!"

Hiro's face flushed the colour of the blossoms they stood under and Hermione felt her own cheeks burn. She expected the delusion that he might like her to fade away once he saw her, but he had remembered every word she wrote, and she remembered his too. The two stood opposite each other in an awkward silence that Hermione was sure could only be achieved by a nearly twelve-year-old girl with a hopeless crush on a thirteen-year-old boy she barely knew. And the recipient of said crush. _Ugh! I'm hopeless! I don't want to be _that _girl!_

"Have you thought about which clubs you'll join, Hermi-chan?" he asked leading her down the path. "You have to do two outside of Culture Club."

"Erm," Hermione turned her attention to the circling coy in the water beneath her, leaning over the rail of the bridge. "I was, erm, hoping to join the _Mercury. _I'm fascinated by journalism and like writing...what clubs are there?"

"The _Mercury _would love to have you!" Hiro smiled joining her on the rail. "There's also the student council, but I think you have to be a year-round student, non-human welfare society, Junior Librarians, Go club, Literature club, board game club, each school subject has its own club, then there's sports; archery, kendo, dueling and Quidditch."

"Ha!" Hermione held out her scrawny arms. "I'm definitely not joining a sport! I think I'll do the paper and Non-Human Welfare Society."

"That sounds great!" Hiro exclaimed. "_Mercury _meets Monday, Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, I think Non-human Welfare Society meets Saturday mornings before classes and Wednesdays at lunch, and then Culture Club is Thursday afternoons. What're your eight summer-term subjects?"

Hermione showed Hiro her time- table, the two compared their schedules and found they were out of classes at the same time and on the same floor. That was great, they would meet up and he could show her where the team met up. "I have to go grab my things for first class, but I'll see you at lunch!" Hermione waved and she was certain nothing would wipe the foolish grin off her face this month.

* * *

Hermione performed well enough in her classes, though the fields she had no practice in, she didn't perform to her satisfaction. The professors all seemed kind, save the shrewd Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Kaname-Sensei, who perhaps had seen too many hexes and curses in practice. A short fat man, but in demeanour was incredibly like her father. She'd leave that out of her reports, she decided. Yokai Studies might have been Hermione's new favourite subject, and was Saiyaka's favourite, if it wasn't also taught by Kaname.

Being foreign bought her some lee-way, that she didn't want, from the professors (save Kaname, so she had to give him that) but ire from some of the students. A few older students acted as if the concept of having one July gaijin-student second year up was tad amount to an invasion. Though most just made cracks about British stereotypes. Matou Shiro and Inuyama Rie among the worst in short time. She had heard "You're British so you won't understand..." so many times in that first day that by lunch she wanted to scream.

What was worse was the general dislike for poor Saiyaka. A number of students even warning Hermione to be careful around her, with no context other than sly smiles. Some called her ugly, she was more plain-looking than anything, if not on the cute side, so it was clearly to shake her up, some made fun of her coming from Okinawa, and a select few, including Matou Shiro, made harassing comments directed at her Muggle parentage. Every time Hermione opened her mouth to shut them u, Saiyaka would take her by the shoulders and shake her head furiously.

"I'm the only muggle-born in our year," Saiyaka explained as they dropped their bags off after classes. "We're a very small school, so anything different is not taken well. But at least I get to see Matou Shiro's stupid face every time he's second to me in grades! That makes all the crap worth it!"

Hermione didn't doubt seeing that little idiot's face when he was bested by a plain little muggle born of all people was anything less than delicious. But she did doubt anything could make Saiyaka's troubles worth it. Hermione couldn't relate point-for-point with her, but she had been through similar treatment over her origins and appearance. Nothing made it worth it, and Sayaika's treatment seemed worse. It seemed Saiyaka didn't even have friends to lean on, unless her fat cat Momo counted.

"Erm, Sayaika," she asked. "I'm going to check out the _Mercury, _I have to join two clubs, and I like that one...erm, do you want to check it out with me?"

"Thanks, Hermione," she said quietly. "But I have so much homework, and I'm already on the Non-Human Welfare Society which takes quite a bit of time, and Juniour Librarians."

"Okay," Hermione smiled before bowing. "I'll see you later!"

Hermione walked to the library with Kaori and Miyuki on either side of her, smiling and describing their plans for the week. She found out that both Kaori and Miyuki were on the student council, and judging by the reception of passers-by, both girls seemed to be quite popular, Kaori was both the seeker and captain for the girls' Quidditch team, and headed the girls' kendo club. She was reminded again of how little she was involved in her own school back home during some of the conversations.

The library was smaller than Hogwarts's, but it felt cozy with massive windows letting the afternoon bathe the towering book shelves that extended to the mezzanine above them. A pattern which continued up three floors. Above her the vaulted ceiling boasted an intricate mural of scenes from the island, forest, sea, the castle, the gardens, and various floating orbs and creatures danced across them. Hermione felt a little dumb being awestruck by a library, but it was hit her with a mix of nostalgia from the smell of old books, and novelty as she was faced with thousands of books she had never seen in a wholly new environment.

"The room we booked for the club is on the fourth floor," Kaori explained.

"You'll love it," Miyuki nodded. "We have a magic printing press and complete access to the archives!"

"_Complete_ access to the archives?!" Hermione had to stop herself from squealing.

"Shh!" shushed a spectral form in a kimono, and Hermione knew right away that the ghost of a young Kamakura-period woman was the librarian.

Another room that seemed to defy physics. The _Mercury _held meetings in a very large room lined with seemingly endless shelves of scrolls and hard-bound books, as promised a magic printing press sat in a corner with stacks of paper sitting on the table beside it. Hiro, Sam and Toshio sat together at a long table scouring over photographs before acknowledging the girls.

"Toshio's got the photographs for next week's issue," Hiro explained after they sat around the table.

Hermione leaned over to see photographs from different club meetings and team practices, all of them looking as if the club members had no clue they were being taken. They all seemed engrossed in the task at hand, perhaps their eyes would have betrayed some knowledge of Toshio, but they were respectfully covered with a long black bar. Perhaps seeing the expression on Hermione's face, Toshio explained that he retro-actively got permission from the photos' subjects, but the bar was expected for mass-circulated photos unless otherwise expressed.

"These are good, Toshio-kun," Kaori smiled. "I'll set to work on the layout. Miyuki-chan, do you have that article on the Ministry's decision to open a magical school for permanently blind and deaf children?"

"Right here!" Miyuki held out a paper scroll, beaming. "I also have the piece on the library bandit!"

"Library bandit?" Hermione asked.

"A book goes missing once a month," Hiro explained dramatically. "It goes like this: a seventh-boarding-year student will go to sign out a book for secondary completion papers and it will be missing. Not signed out, but missing. There doesn't seem to be anything in common but that their in their last year before they specialize! We've been interviewing loads of people with no luck. I suspect someone in the Junior Library club, but they all have alibis."

"Not much happens here," Miyuki explained. "So the Library Bandit is naturally front page news."

"Even though it shouldn't be," Kaori reprimanded. "This is just feeding the ego of whoever's doing it. We stop reporting on it and maybe they'll stop!"

"Oh, come on, Kaori-chan!" Miyuki pouted. "Hiro and I interviewed the librarian, the victim and _five _Junior Librarians! Let our hard work see the light of day!"

"So you've got my little brother in on it as well then?" Kaori sighed. "We'll have to report on it anyway, Watari Senpai and Anya will side with you."

"Fighting about the Bandit again?" a bubbly petite blond girl of fifteen or so skipped into the room. A German accent shining through her otherwise flawless Japanese.

"Anya-san!" Kaori greeted her with a smile.

"Not going to reprimand her for being late?" Hiro said. "Oh, Hermi-chan, this is Larsen Anya, fifth-year's July student. And that's Wateri Yosuke Senpai our editor."

Anya was followed by yet another person, this time a boy of about sixteen who stood at about average hieght of his age with dark brown hair, brown eyes and tanned olive skin. If Hermione had been asked to picture at random a Japanese teenaged boy, Watari Yosuke would have been what she pictured. He smiled and bowed in greeting to the group, which they met with the same greeting.

Once introductions were made, the group set to work. Hermione watched as Kaori and Yosuke debated on lay-outs, arranging and re-arranging them. Hiro provided a cartoon of cabinet members pressuring the Minister to do the right thing, which was paired with Miyuki's first story, and a three panel comic strip accompanied her article on the Library Bandit. Articles about club meetings, the most recent Quidditch match were provided by Toshio, Sam, Hiro and Miyuki. Kaori provided Yosuke with two advice columns, Anya presented an article on upcoming Summer Festivals in Wizarding Japan, and the week's horoscopes.

By the time they were done, it was supper and they would had the issue ready to print.

"Assignments!" Yosuke called before they left. "Anya, horoscopes and the School Summer Festival, Miyuki and Hiro I like the work on the Bandit, keep it up. Just also provide an article following the opening of a separate school for blind and deaf children, Toshio, you and Sam should cover the boys' Kendo Club and it's Hermione, right? I want you with Anya on the horoscopes and the School Summer Festival."

First day, and she was only there for a month, it was dumb to hope she'd be given something like the Library Bandit, or even be trusted as an outsider to accurately capture what was going on in their ministry by navigating third party accounts. However, she had hoped for something more exciting than horoscopes and festivals..._No, you'll make the best of this! You'll be attending a Mahoukatoro Summer Festival. __You've read about how incredible those are!_

After supper Hermione immediately went to the dorm she shared with Saiyaka, who was bent over a massive volume and furiously scribbling something down. They greeted each other and Hermione set to work she wrote a passage to her father that read along the lines of "everything's brill! Love it here, alive, here are some specifics so you don't harass me. How are you?" and four letters addressed to Fred, George, Ron and Harry. Once she had detailed outlines for each class's workload, and finished her charms homework and read through her _Yokai Studies_ text book until she felt she could no longer keep her eyes open.

* * *

The first week passed and Hermione felt both incredibly privileged and swamped at the same time. She spent a great deal of time in the library brushing up on her new subjects, quizzing herself until she was satisfied, and then the three clubs. She loved working with the paper, even if she and Anya made up horoscopes based on archaic information from _Astrology for beginners, _she loved listening to Hiro and Miyuki describe in detail their interviews and leads in the Library Bandit Case, which now were pinned on a cork board with red string, and watching the paper come together. She had wished Non-Human Welfare Society had been the same, but it wound up being Saiyaka by herself in a very small study room off the library.

"The president of the club graduated last year and Watari-Senpai quit in April," Saiyaka squeaked looking down at her issue of _Ohayo! Nihon Mahou. _"It's just me now. So not much more than research gets done. Sorry..."

"I-I-" Hermione stammered. "It's okay, I'm still interested. What're you researching now?"

"A Kappa off of Kyoto was killed by a wizard after attacking a worker for a company that polluted the river he lived in," she explained, eyes still on the article. "No charges were made. There's also a werewolf in Osaka that has been sentenced to life in prison. She was found guilty and is the single mother of a toddler, who she'll never see again. The woman didn't even get a trial."

"Shit," Hermione breathed sitting across from her. "That's a horrific miscarriage of justice!"

"Not many would think like us..." Saiyaka sighed. "Did you know that our food and basic maintenance is performed by unpaid house elves? It's like if you're not human you're life doesn't matter! Yet we still put cucumbers and tofu on shrines for Yokai..."

That meeting ended in a grim silence, both wishing they had more students to undersign an appeal for poor woman from Osaka.

Culture Club seemed to be an excuse to lump all the secondary-level July-students together, there were no Japanese save the Care for Magical Creatures professor, Haruno-sama, an short older woman with white hair and paper thin skin that hunched over a cane. She noticed that with the exception of Anya, all the other students hailed from English speaking schools. Canada, Sam, the United States, a tired looking boy of fourteen, New Zealand, an attractive sixteen-year-old boy with a permanent smile, South Africa, a tall, gangily boy that reminded her of Percy of seventeen and herself from Britain. Other than Sam and Anya, Hermione didn't really form an opinion one way or another on any of her program peers.

Any time not spent in study or at clubs that week, she used to gain her bearings with Hiro in part showing her around, and in part exposing the school's secrets to her. Did every school have secret passages and forbidden rooms? One evening after supper Hermione followed Hiro and Toshio up to their dorm with Sam to hang out without the crowds in the gardens or common rooms.

"Mochi is so big now!" Hermione played scratched behind the purring calico in her lap. "She's what, a year-old now?"

"Yeah," Hiro smiled sitting beside her on the futon. "She's a sweet kitty. I'd take her over a raven any day!"

"So," Sam ventured, he and Toshio sitting together on the opposite futon. "You and Miyuki got any new leads on the Library Bandit?"

Hiro mused for a bit before presenting a stack of papers from his bag. "Seventh year boarders draw up an annotated bibliography in May of the major books they'll use for research," he then dropped his voice to a whisper. "I _may _have swiped this from my grandfather's office...Don't worry, Hermi-chan, I'm copying them tonight so we have what we need but can return them tomorrow morning."

Hermione blushed furiously at this. Had she been so obvious that she was worried? How she envied Hiro's easy smile, had Hermione pulled the same trick with her father she would simply be in pieces, but Hiro seemed to care more about doing what was right than what ever his grandfather might have to do or say about it. Even worse, his grandfather was the headmaster, making the consequences greater than what Hermione would face in the same position. "Erm, you're not, erm, worried?"

"Terrified," he whispered and the nervous boy from Hiro's letters returned. "But, erm, I, erm-catching the Library Bandit...It's..."

"Catching the Library Bandit, is probably the most exciting thing any of us will get to do," Toshio explained. "And for Hiro-kun, the paper is really the only thing he has. Sure, his sister runs it, and Miyuki-san is helping, but this case, if he solves it-"

"It'll be because of us, not because my sister is perfect or because my grandfather is headmaster," Hiro finished looking down at his feet.

Hermione understood that desire all too well. She spent eleven years tied to her father with no true identity of her own or achievements, when she started school any success was undercut by growing up in the school, and the one thing she did to help _actually _people...She was convinced she was incidental. Hermione even wondered if she was actually clever enough to solve her father's puzzle on her own, or if it was just another lucky occurrence from being raised by him.

"Hiro-kun," she placed her hand on his and smiled. "You've got this. I know you do, but if there's anyway I can help...I want to."

"Hermione," Sam interjected. "As another international student, I should let you know, that consequences for rule breaking are much worse. You can be kicked from the program."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "But this is important. It's not life or death, but...let's just say I might have an idea of where Hiro-kun's coming from," she turned to Hiro and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "If this is important to you, this is important to me. But I also understand if accepting help...it's hard to need people when you doubt your own abilities...but I am totally together with you on whatever you want!"

"Hermi-chan..." Hiro gasped. "I couldn't ask you to..."

"I want to," she asserted.

"You idiots realize she can help without direct rule breaking, right?" Toshio scoffed pushing up his glasses. "Give her the paper trail. We get a pair of fresh eyes on evidence, and she doesn't have to break a single rule."

_You couldn't think of something that simple? Your father's right, you _are _a little idiot..._ "Arigato, Toshio-san," Hermione bowed her head and took the chronicled interviews and bibliographies.

* * *

"Is it true all Brits have teeth like that?" Matou asked with a sneer during Divination (Hermione's least favourite subject by far).

"No, Matou-san," Hermione sighed picking up her bamboo rods. "I'm just exceptionally ugly, and I've heard it all before so you can spare your breath."

"Hermi-chan," Saiyaka whispered from opposite her. "You'll make it worse."

"I doubt it," Hermione sighed. "What do your rods tell you, Sayia-chan?"

A week living together and Saiyaka and Hermione were now studying together and even hanging out outside of NHWS club on occasion, and spending most of their nights chatting away their worries. Hermione was never confident with where she stood in people's opinion, but Hermione felt secure in their friendship, and she was they only person the nervous girl spoke to, and the only one with a shortened name.

"That bamboo makes better forests than divining tools?" she laughed meekly.

The girls broke into giggles over that to a shush from the old short mustachioed man Tosaka-Sensei.

Inuyama Rie rolled her eyes. "We had to share a table with you. Okinawan Mudblood and a Limey."

Saiyaka's eyes cast down at her rods and she squirmed in her seat.

"Intend to marry your cousin to keep your bloodline pure, then?" Hermione hissed.

"So our little mudblood has a defender now?!" she yelled.

"Language, Inuyama!" the old man called.

Hermione joined Saiyaka in the nervous squirming as Inuyama Rie glared daggers at them. Hermione had once compared her mentally to Pansy Parkinson, but this girl was much smarter, and more conniving.

"Hermi-chan?" Saiyaka said as they left the class meekly.

"Yeah?"

"You're not you know," she played with one of her braided pigtails.

"Not what?"

"Exceptionally ugly," said Saiyaka.

"I think you need a new prescription," Hermione laughed. "You don't have to pretend-"

"I'm not just being nice," Saiyaka adjusted her glasses. "And my glasses are fine. I just, erm, think you should know that, y'know. And the teeth and curly hair are, erm, kind of cute."

"You're sweet, Saiya-chan," Hermione sighed. "Though I wish you could see that about yourself. You know you're adorable, right?"

Saiyaka adjusted her glasses and fiddled with her braids staring at the ground. Hermione's attempts to comfort her friend turned very awkward. She _was _adorable, but maybe Saiyaka thought Hermione was either awkwardly paying a compliment back, making the chances of her taking it seriously, or she thought Hermione _liked _her...which would make their new found friendship very awkward...

_Shit, Hermione, you are _such _an idiot! __No! You can't blame growing up with no peers! You had a whole damn year with kids your own age! Ugh! Why don't I know better yet?!_

"There's, erm, something I have to do!" Saiyaka bowed. "Sorry! I'll meet you tonight!"

_I am terrible at people!_

* * *

Hermione spent that night after homework, which she did in the co-ed common room to give Saiyaka space, with Hiro and Miyuki in the _Mercury_ combing over the Library Bandit paper trail.

"There's twenty-one seventh-boarding-year students, right?" Hermione asked. "It looks like the four targeted have one thing in common. They're writing on the relationships between Non-Humans and humans in the magical community," Hermione's stomach churned on two topics. "_Uses of House-Elves for the Modern Wizard in Japan and Abroad. An Argument for a Public Registry of Were-Wolves. _This is disgusting!"

"Don't British wizards use house-elves too?" Hiro asked. "I don't think it's right either, but you look disturbed..."

"I just thought my culture was sufficiently backwards...or hoped so at least," she sighed.

"I see," he said.

"Wait!" Miyuki cried looking quite pale. "Who do we know that's involved in the junior librarians and hates the current treatment of Non-Humans in the magical community?"

"No," Hermione breathed barely above a whisper.

"Okasha Saiyaka?" Hiro asked. "Miyuki-san-"

"Saiya-chan's too nervous to pull something like that off," Hermione said, once again digging her nails into her hands. _This can't be happening again!  
_

"Aren't you two dorm-mates?" Miyuki asked. "Any chance you can keep an eye on her for us?"

Hermione involuntarily gripped her hands tighter. Sure, no one was accusing Saiyaka of being a death eater, but Hermione felt as if the investigation of her father was happening all over again. It wasn't even remotely as serious, but she couldn't stop the panic rising in her chest. She was, from what it appeared to be, Sayaika's only friend and no she had to spy on her? Or if she had any desire to keep her friendship with Hiro and Miyuki she had to.

"If you're not comfortable with it," Hiro said quickly. "You don't have to."

_What?!_ This case meant so much to Hiro, did he mean it? She stared at the list of proposals and bibliographies. Maybe there was something missing. Something that she missed.

"Hermione-chan?" Miyuki said. "Are you okay?"

"If the pattern persists," Hermione said looking at the sign-out history beside the proposals. "the next book to disappear should be _Ningyo Psychology_ and it'll be Natsume Kikyo looking to sign it out. All we need to do is figure out when she intends to sign it out and stake-out the night before." _And Saiyaka never has to know..._

"I'll see if I can overhear her tell her friends anything," Miyuki said. "A stake-out! Ah! This is so cool! I feel like a real investigative reporter!"

"Me too!" Hiro beamed. "Thank you, Hermione."

"Actually," Hermione said. "There's one more thing you guys might be able to do."

* * *

Saiyaka was all too eager to forget the awkward exchange in the morning by the time Hermione got back from their meeting and things seemed normal again. Which given both girls' inexperience with other human-beings, was still often silent and Hermione wishing she knew what Sayaika was thinking as she poured herself into her homework.

The week past with no new developments from Miyuki on when the Natsume girl would sign out her book, Hermione even joined the junior librarians to keep an eye out. Though she had been so busy re-shelving newly returned books that she barely got a sense of the character of her fellow junior librarians. The only new information she got was that House-elves were responsible for books left on tables and new arrivals. She thought to ask one of them if they'd seen anything funny, but she didn't want to let on why she joined the club.

She knew she only had two weeks left, so she wanted to make the most of her time on Hiro's case, but she also wanted to leave feeling like Saiyaka would have someone to turn to. She'd hoped her plan would achieve both, but didn't hold out hope. Saiyaka was invisible to Hiro and his friends, so she hoped the best witch of her year could provide some insights that would earn her a shot.

"Hermi-chan!" Sayakia took off her glasses and furiously rubbed at the lenses with a pink cloth. She was still surprised at the number of people at the NHWS meeting this week.

"Hi, Saiya-chan," she smiled and waved. "I've brought new memebers! This is-"

"I know who they are," she hissed.

"Saiyaka, we didn't..." Hiro gulped. "It was a long time ago..."

_Wait, do you two have a history? _

Saiyaka stared at Hermione, her eyes wide and face drained. "Tell me you didn't know all along...that comment after divination..."

"Saiya-chan..." Hermione backed away. "I don't know what you're talking about..."

Miyuki sighed. "Saiyaka, Hiro and I used to be close friends..."

"Really?" Hermione bit her lip. "But why-"

"It's hard, y'know," Saiyaka said, shaking. "To find wizards that don't care about being muggle-born, or Okinawan, but I did, in Hiro and Miyuki. But that didn't last..."

Saiyaka pressed her lips together in a hard line tears pooled in her dark brown eyes, threatening to brim over, her hands were balled into white knuckled fists at her side. Saiyaka was angry. Fourteen days was barley anytime to get a read on a character, but judging by the others' shock, this was not something that anyone expected of the unassuming shy girl who simply took racial slurs without protest.

"I'm so so sorry, Saiya-chan," Hermione said. "I didn't-I wasn't-I-I-"

"I told them not to tell you, Hermione," Miyuki admitted. "When you invited us here to join the club, I thought it was time to...Saiya-chan, it's been two years!"

"_You told!" _cried Saiyaka.

Hermione was shocked to see Miyuki and Hiro hit their knees and press their forehead to the ground. A full bow of apology, and Saiyaka's tears rolled down her cheeks. What the hell did Hermione unwittingly set up? This, whatever it was, seemed deeply personal, like something that she, Sam and Toshio should not have been there to witness.

"I'm so sorry, Saiyaka-san!" she trembled.

"We're both sorry," Hiro repeated. "We were stupid. But we want to stop you before you get yourself expelled, even if you still don't want to be friends with us!"

"Expelled?" Sayaika cried. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Miyuki rose. "I'm sorry, Saiya-chan-"

"You don't get to call me that after what you did!"

"Saiyaka-san," she lifted her hands as if trying to calm a panicked hippogriff. "I know you're passionate about non-human rights, but sabotaging the theses of upperclassmen won't do anything! Return the books and we won't say a word."

"Oh, my god!" Saiyaka laughed. "You think I'm the library bandit?!"

"Erm," Miyuki looked off into the distance ashamed.

"I'm not!" she wept. "And I'm sorry I don't have an alibi, but it's hard to have one when you have no friends!"

"_You_ left the group..." Toshio ventured nervously.

"After Miyuki and Hiro told everyone I was gay!" she seethed. "I had everything against me, I didn't need anything extra!"

That conversation suddenly made sense now...When Hermione complimented her, Saiyaka thought she was making fun of her. No wonder she was in such a rush to leave...

"We made a mistake," Miyuki explained. "You were ten, I was twelve, I thought it was a silly little girl crush at the time, so I didn't see any harm in telling Kaori or Aya. Notice Aya doesn't hang around us anymore? We only see her in Student Council now. And Hiro and Inuyama Rie were friends when he told her."

"I didn't expect her to spread it to your whole year before you even started boarding," Hiro sighed. "I had no clue how awful she was back then...It's no excuse, I know that now. I can tell you I've grown up, that I regret doing it, but I don't think that matters to you. I reckon it's trust, you trusted us with something personal and we violated it. I'm sorry, Saiyaka-san."

"And you apologize by accusing me of betraying my role as a Junior Librarian? To sabotage a couple of essays?"

"You hate us, that's fine!" Miyuki cried. "But I still don't want you to throw away your future!"

"I keep telling you, I'm not the bandit!" Saiyaka seethed.

A silence filled the room and she wished Mikyuki and Hiro had told her their plan to confront her before they were even convinced of her guilt. Hermione would have called the whole thing off. Everyone stared at each other in various stages of 'what the hell' written all over their faces. This should have never happened, Saiyaka shot daggers at stupid could Hermione have been? She just unilaterally decided a particular set of actions were best when they affected others a hell of a lot more than they affect her! What the hell was _wrong_ with her? _Get out of your own damn head, stupid girl! Fix this! _

"S-Saiyaka," Hermione bowed. "This is all my fault. I knew Miyuki suspected you, I thought if she met with you she'd realize she was wrong. I'm sorry. I also thought, foolishly, I'll admit, that I thought you could help with the investigation and that they could sign the appeal for the Osaka woman. I-I thought it would be a win-win...th-that..." she didn't know where to go from there. Her struggle for words stopped when she felt a hand give hers a reassuring squeeze.

"Saiyaka," Hiro bowed, his hand still linked in Hermione's. "Please forgive us!"

"Here's the damn petition for the Osaka werewolf case," she sniffed. "Win-Win, Hermione? I thought you were smarter than this!"

* * *

_Everything's great! I've made some good friends, I adore my classes, am enjoying clubs and realizing that British food is the absolute worst. _Hermione wrote that night in the girls' common room. _And everything's okay there? _

_The word 'vague' doesn't even begin to describe your accounts._ Her father wrote back.

She _really _hated this cutting into time she needed to figure out what to do. Every night! Harry, Fred, George and Ron were all happy with the raven once a week or so. Well, Harry never wrote her, but the others seemed satisfied.

_Running out of novel things to tell. Only so many ways to say everything's fine. Which it is, better than fine! It's wonderful here. Girls' prefect is calling for lights out, I have to go._

_O.K. _his writing appeared on the page. _I'll let you go then. Behave yourself. Stay safe, don't forget to write tomorrow, love you._

He ended every damn exchange with that. She understood why, and, for all she knew, it was normal, but the demand she write daily was more oppressive than the Japanese heat, and the 'stay safes' made her feel five.

_Write to you tomorrow. Love you_.

Hermione shut the book and took to how to set things right with Saiyaka. Meaning well meant nothing, Hermione had about a month of modified memories to prove that. She tried to come up with a solution, but nothing seemed to pan out. Hermione would apologize sure, and Saiyaka was her own person, if she wanted nothing to do with Hermione, that was her decision and fine. But it hurt.

Wisdom was supposed to come with age, but nearly twelve years of being alive and Hermione hardly felt that was the case. She was so clueless! And Miyuki at fourteen was the oldest of the lot there and hardly seemed any wiser for it. All she knew was that Saiyaka was so hurt by Hiro and Miyuki that she would rather be alone for two entire years. Whatever she did, she had to be smart about it...something she was losing faith in her ability to do.

"Ugh!" Hermione slammed her head against the table.

"Hermione-chan?" Kaori sat beside her. "I didn't know anyone was still up."

"Sorry, Senpai! Neither did I," Hermione raised her head to address her but shrank in her chair. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't," she said. "And I actually wanted to talk to you anyway."

"Oh?" Hermione bit her lip and dug her nails into her hand. _How did you find out? I wonder if you were one of the ones spreading it..._

"Miyuki-chan's my best friend," she explained. "She tells me everything. Including what happened at NHWS."

"I didn't mean for-" _Damn it, Miyuki! You talking is the reason this whole thing started! _No, that wasn't fair...

"I know," she sighed with a weak smile. "It was really hard for all of them...Hiro really just hung around with me and Miyuki after that, Toshio was assigned Sam, so he had an excuse not to get involved with the drama, and Saiyaka simply stopped talking to anyone, I don't think she ever trusted anyone after that. Miyuki and I were your age...Hiro was eleven, and didn't know Rie would become...Hermione-chan, we were all very stupid kids and Miyuki really only went to us for advice because she didn't know how to deal with Saiyaka's feelings for her. We didn't know Aya would be out for blood for a ten-year-old. But she and Rie are cousins, and Rie did take Saiyaka beating her academically pretty hard. Does any of this make sense?"

It did. Hiro and Miyuki should have kept Saiyaka's confidence, but she at least understood Miyuki's desire to go to Kaori for advice. She clearly still cared about Saiyaka, not wanting her to get expelled. And if Hermione found out one of her friends liked her that way and she couldn't reciprocate, she might have done something equally stupid in an attempt to preserve the precarious friendship. Hell, even Hiro's loneliness in his letters now made sense. It was like the group only just got back together...without Saiyaka.

"Thank you for telling me, Senpai," Hermione nodded. "I understand where everyone's coming from now. I just wish I never meddled..."

"You didn't know the history," Kaori said, somehow still smiling. "And you're not even twelve yet, are you? Meddling to try and get everyone you care about on the same page is understandable, and at your age it can be hard to see what harm can come of things."

"You sound like a grown-up," Hermione sighed.

"Just another stupid kid in over her head," Kaori replied. "But I hope I helped."

_I honestly don't know if anything will help._ "Yes, Senpai." she nodded. "Thank you."

"Are you planning on staying here all night?" Kaori asked.

"I'm certain I'm the last person Saiyaka wants to see after that stunt I pulled."

"I'll stay up with you, Hermione-chan," she said. "I'm simply drowning in homework."

* * *

"Hiro-kun! Hermione-chan!" Miyuki ran up to her and Hiro doing homework under a cherry blosssom tree.

"Miyuki-Senpai?" the said together tearing their eyes from their homework.

"I overheard Natsume-Senpai telling Yosuke-san griping about how she needs to get her final proposal done before July ends. And she said she would have to hit the library tomorrow!"

"You know what that means," Hiro leapt up. "We do our stake-out tonight! I have to go tell Toshio-kun and Sam!"

He took off like a shot. The spring in his step, Hiro's hard work would pay off and they would solve the case tonight. Hermione expected that to make her happy, but she couldn't shake the sight of Saiyaka during classes keeping to herself, or their eyes meeting over breakfast. Hermione had intended to apologize, but like a coward backed down at her glare. She hugged her knees as Miyuki sat down next to her.

"I'm sorry Hiro and I didn't tell you..." she said looking at the grass. "We should have...I don't know why we didn't."

"I don't think I'm the person you should be apologizing to, Miyuki-san," Hermione closed her book. "I-I," she sighed. "Look, what happened back there was a result of my meddling. If Saiyaka hates my guts, I deserve it. But I think Saiyaka deserves to hear your side of the story and an apology that's not accompanied by an accusation."

"I know you're right," Miyuki sighed stretching out on her stomach next to Hermione. "And I will. But I think I need to give her time."

"It's been-crap!" Hermione slapped her forehead. "I left my map of the library in my dorm room. I'll be back."

Hermione came up with the intention of grabbing the map and leaving before Saiyaka had to suffer her presence too long, but that all changed when she saw Saiyaka curled up in a fetal position on her futon sobbing, clinging to her cat. She was going to slide the door closed quietly and give her some privacy, but when she slid the door open Saiyaka locked eyes with her, as well as she could without her glasses.

"Sorry!" both girls stammered simultaneously.

"I-I'll go, I'm so so sorry!" Hermione turned to leave.

"Wait," Sayaika sighed sitting up. "Tell me, did you really not know after divination on Monday?"

"I didn't," she whispered. "I'm sorry if you thought I was teasing you. And, erm, for what it's worth, erm, I really do think they're sorry. It's not my place, but I got everyone's side of the story. It sounds like they were just not thinking. And if you still hate me after that meeting, I completely understand, but..." Hermione dropped to her knees and bowed. "I'm sorry for everything, Sayaika-san."

Saiyaka wiped her eyes and grabbed her glasses. "I don't hate you. I don't hate them either. If I'm honest, I miss them."

Saiyaka sat with her cat, scratching behind her ears and looked off in the distance for a while before joining Hermione on the floor with a surprising smile that seemed to even touch her tear-filled eyes with an extended pinky. "Promise not to ambush me ever again and I promise to hear them out."

Hermione took the extended pinky and the girls shook on it singing "This is a pinky-promise, if I break it I'll shove a thousand needles in my eyes!"

"So, Hermi-chan?" Saiyaka asked as they left the room in a whisper. "Did you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "If I wasn't sorry, I'd be a monster."

"No, I, erm, never mind!"

Hermione dropped it figuring Saiyaka would tell her when she wanted to. They went down to the gardens together to meet Miyuki, Kaori and the others, with legitimate surprise from Hermione that Saiyaka wanted to go see them. "We all used to be so close, and it _has_ been two years."

"Saiyaka-san!" Miyuki gasped. "I didn't expect...I'm..."

"Hermi-chan told me everything on the way down," Saiyaka played with one of her braids. "It's sounds like it was all a massive misunderstanding. And you _did _all sign my petition. So, erm..."

Miyuki shocked the group by leaping to her feet and wrapping her arms around her. "We _missed _you!"

"I hear you lot are looking for a pair of new eyes on the library bandit case?" she smirked breaking free of Miyuki.

* * *

"I can't believe we're doing this!" Sam whispered nearly shaking.

"You didn't have to come," Toshio said adjusting his camera lens. " you, Anya-san and Hermione-chan _could_ have stayed in your dorms."

"And miss this?" Hermione scoffed, despite harbouring some of Sam's apprehensions. "Hell no!"

By some miracle the entirety of the _Mercury _and Saiyaka were able to stay behind in the study room after the doors had been locked. Well, all but Kaori and Yosuke.

"The book will be on this shelf," Saiyaka said.

Hiro nodded and circled five points. "Hermi-chan, you'll be with me around this shelf, Toshio you should-"

Toshio shook his head and circled a new point where shelves met in a T. "Sam and I are best here. I'll have the clearest shot without being seen. Miyuki and Saiyaka are best..."

"We're best here," Sayaika pointed to one of Hiro's original points. "We have easiest access to the exact spot on the shelf while still being hidden. Trust me, two years of hiding from everyone in this library gives me that insight."

"What about Ikigawa no Kagome?" Hermione whispered. "Librarian's a ghost, it's not like she'll be sleeping."

"Don't hate me, Hiro-kun," Miyuki blushed looking down at the map. "I told Kaori and she's agreed to help."

"We'll be making diversions elsewhere in the library," Anya explained. "I'll be here," she marked a point on the second floor with an X. "And Kaori will be on the main floor."

They all put there hands in on the table whispering "good luck!"before raising their hands into a contactless group high-five. They broke, sneaking to their positions hoping not to get caught by any house-elves or the spectral librarian. Hermione taught each of them the _muffliatio _ spell so they wouldn't be heard, but told them it stopped people in a radius around them from hearing them by filling their ears with ringing, so it might not completely conceal them.

Hermione had memories of hiding in a library going so far back, ducking behind a shelf and peaking out to see who was around the bend was no new feat. It felt so familiar, yet so new. Exhilaration and fear warred within her. Fear she shouldn't have felt when she had been through so much worse, yet the idea of expulsion...whatever future she had would be destroyed, she'd never see her friends again, and her father would...she didn't know, but it wouldn't be pleasant. But she would live, not a guarantee last time, and the stakes were so, so much lower.

The war within her head quietened with a hand on her shaking one, Hiro smiled at her and Hermione returned his reassuring squeeze. The two made eyecontact for a brief moment before returning their gaze to the shelf. They didn't know how long they waited but at last they saw something.

A hooded figure crept through the library nearly melting into the shadows and shelves. This was it! The Library Bandit crept along the shelf opposite them. Hermione's heart-thudded in her heart, all they had to do was wait for the flash of Toshio's camera, and they could declare that they caught him red-handed! A hand crept up and lifted the book from the shelf.

A bright flash of light and click and a familiar voice shouted in surprise dropping the book. The six of them congregated on him before he could escape, leaping from behind their perspective shelves to form a circle what Hermione now realized was composed of much smaller kids around a full grown, what appeared to be, man. Though he was still covering his eyes.

"Muffliato!" Hermione cast.

"The hood," Hiro demanded. "Take it down."

The man complied, and they were greeted with a very familiar set of brown eyes under a messy dark brown fringe.

"Watari-Senpai!" they all gasped at once.

"Damn it!" he spat. "How'd you-why'd-"

"_You _asked us to investigate the bandit!" Miyuki said. "And _you're the library bandit?_"

"_Tell _me, Senpai," Saiyaka said in a tiny voice. "Please tell me this wasn't to get a good story before you graduate in March."

Toshio looked sadly at his camera not saying anything, Sam looked uncomfortable, his wand gripped at his side. Hermione felt she shared his expression. Neither of them really had enough time to feel betrayed by this, but the other members of the _Mercury _looked as if they no longer knew who they were looking at. Saiyaka though, she seemed livid. Hermione didn't blame her, she had trust issues and for good reason. Finally, she decided to let people in, and someone else lied to her...

"It started out as a prank on this guy," he explained calmly. "It was one book in his completion paper. Wouldn't ruin his life, but it would drive him mad. Then when rumours started flying and Hiro-kun asked to investigate it, I saw the potential for something that could look good when I applied for _Ohayo, Mahou Nihon! _Even without solving it, it would be I also noticed that seven of the twenty-one of us were writing on archaic ideas of the place of Non-Humans in magical Japan. I was hoping Hiro and Miyuki would report on that common thread as soon as they noticed it. I didn't expect the headmaster's grandson to risk stake-out. The camera...Toshio-kun, I won't force you to destroy the picture, but I will ask you."

"Did you really hope to accomplish anything that way?" Saiyaka asked. "All it would do is make people who care about non-human rights look petty."

"I guess I just felt like I was doing something, however little, in my power to shake them up," he sighed. "Stupid that I'm being shown up by a bunch of thirteen-year-olds, huh?"

Hermione and Saiyaka exchanged a knowing glance deciding not to correct him.

"You should have thought about that, shouldn't you have?!" cried Miyuki. "Did you know we actually thought poor Saiya-chan did it?"

"Sorry, Saiyaka-kun," Yosuke bowed. "I didn't mean for that. I honestly only wanted to ruin a few bigots' papers while making a great story. If I could also do something for non-human rights awareness, it was a bonus."

"Well, you did more harm than good!" Miyuki hissed.

"Wait," Hiro said. "There's a win for all of us here."

Hermione's stomach tensed. She hoped his win-win scenario was more thought out than her own.

"Write an anonymous letter from the Library Bandit," Hiro suggested. "Announcing your retirement."

"Oh!" Saiyaka piped up. "Erm,I, erm, you could even write about how it was all a misguided attempt to reveal the normalization human-supremacy in the school."

"Yes!" Miyuki beamed snapping her fingers. "You can even add a statement about how your views are still the same, but you now understand how juvenile your methods were, and the slippery to more extreme methods from there. It'll make you look sympathetic."

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip. She'd been there for three weeks, not long enough to say anything, but..."Maybe close with a dream of humans and non-humans living in harmony? You don't have to! But the sentiment, erm..." _Stupid piece of shit! Hold your tongue!_

"Hermione-chan's right," Toshio shrugged. "It'd tie it nicely together. And it'd work a hell of a lot better than yelling 'specist dumbass' at half the school."

"Yamato Kaori-san!" an ethereal voice below them shrieked. "Your grandfather will destroy you."

"It's not likely," Hiro muttered in Hermione's ear. "She's top witch of her year _and _the single best Seeker we've had in a century. She'll get off with community service. Let's go before _we're_ caught!

"I'm sorry, Hiro-kun," Hermione as they lagged behind the group. "I know how badly you wanted to solve and write on this case."

"I didn't want the culprit expelled," he explained taking her hand. "I wanted to solve it, and I did. I don't think I would have without you."

* * *

"Kawaii!" Miyuki squealed pinching Hermione's cheeks.

"Cute?" Hermione scoffed looking at herself in the mirror. "I feel like walking cultural appropriation."

The girls had decided to get ready for the festival together in Kaori and Miyuki's dorm. Which had been an affair the Saiyaka and Hermione were completely bewildered by. Miyuki had worked away at Hermione's hair, forcing it into a coiled braid with locks hanging loosley over her shoulder, mimicking what Anya had done with Kaori's (though with much less effort), while Kaori brushed out Saiyaka's long wavy hair. It was communal and fun as they talked about whatever came to mind. Including the prospect of a trashy-romance book club.

Now that they were finished, Hermione examined Miyuki's handiwork in the mirror, and to her credit, she was almost pretty, which was no easy feat. But the kanzashi pinning her finge out of her face and baby blue floral kimono didn't feel right. Like she was playing pretend rather than taking part in local rituals respectfully.

"_Yare yare!"_ Anya pouted gesturing to her own pettite form. "At least you can pass for half-Japanese, or at least half-East Asian!"

That was fair. Whatever Hermione felt, it was probably worse for Anya, who's blond curls were pulled from her blue eyes with chopsticks, and the pink of her cheeks of her otherwise ivory skin matched the sakura printed kimono she wore. As pretty as she looked, she was the most out of place among the dark-haired and eyed girls around her.

"This is my _third_ Matsuri and I still feel like I have 'gaijin' stamped on my forehead!" Anya scoffed. "And I'm _German_!"

"You're both fine!" Kaori laughed straightening her red kimono. "School's been doing this program for I think fifteen years now!"

"What's everyone's stand schedules?" Saiyaka bringing a lock of her loose hair over her shoulder to fiddle with it.

Saiyaka's full face was visible for the first time all month with her long fringe tied out of her face with a red ribbon. She had a soft round face, and her dark brown eyes were larger than she had originally thought. She smiled nervously and went from playing with her hair to fussing over her navy kimono.

Hermione dug hers out and the other girls did the same, they had gone over the schedules before with the boys, but ensuring everyone knew where would accomplish two things; making it easier to find everyone before the fireworks launch, and it would let Saiyaka know they had no intention of leaving her to hide alone all night for the second year in a row.

"Alright!" Kaori said leaping up. "We'll meet up on the south shore to with the boys to watch the fireworks! I have to go watch the day students until they're collected."

"thirty seven-to-ten-year-olds," Miyuki sighed adjusting the fabric tsubaki flower on the side of her head. "Try not to have too much fun."

"I'll just get them playing Kagome Kagome until they're collected," Kaori shrugged grabbing her bag. "They're always so determined to figure out the others' footsteps!"

"See you at the festival!"

* * *

Hermione and Sam finished their shift at the Culture Club's ramen stand to be relieved by the boys from New Zealand and South Africa. They gave them their black aprons and hats before setting off to find Anya and Toshio. Hermione followed Sam quitely, or as quietly as she could in geta, watching the groups of students in kimonos and yukata laughing and talking. The crowds were much more managable then they had been in Tokyo, and despite Hermione's fears, she never lost site of Sam in the sea of people.

"Ready to try ramen and Yaki Soba from ten different stands?" Anya teased leaping to her feet. "Or matcha from eight? The clubs should really communicate what they're doing with each other! At least there's the candy-apple stand."

"You three get together!" Toshio ordered adjusting his camera lense. "I want a picture of the reporters assigned to the festival."

"Say cheese, kiddos!" Anya laughed throwing an arm around both her and Sam.

Sam and Hermione were both still looking at Anya in surprise when a sudden flash accompanied by a click assaulted their eyes.

"And they said Germans were grumpy," Toshio rolled his eyes. "Anya's the only one smiling."

And so began the night of games and too many noodles. Hermione still asserted she liked Japanese food better than British food, but miso ramen quickly went from her favourite dish to her least favourite. The four of them set to interviewing heads of each stand for the paper, Toshio ambushing patrons and servers alike with his camera. He would then write the names of those in the pictures in his notebook in order to get permissions before the print of the last issue of the _Mercury _before break.

"Hermi-chan!" a voice called and Hermione turned to see Hiro with Saiyaka.

It seemed the boys could get away with much less fuss than the girls. Hiro beamed at her under still very messy black hair and he looked like he simply threw on his yakata and left his dorm. Hermione was a little jealous, he looked so effortless, especially next to Saiyaka, but he still gave Hermione a stupid case of the butterflies. At risk of sounding like a protagonist in a trashy romance novel, she thought she could stare at his smiling face in the golden sunset forever.

"Hiro-kun!" she waved. "Saiya-chan!"

"First summer Festival, what do you think?" Hiro asked offering his arm to Hermione.

"It's fantastic!" Hermione gingerly took Hiro's arm. "I can't wait till the shrine offering! I read all abo-I might be the single dullest person alive..."

"You're not," Hiro smiled. "And you don't have to wait much longer! It'll be starting soon. Then after that is the fireworks!"

Hiro didn't lie. Once the group had been fully assembled they immediately made their way up to the southern shrine. They walked double-file through the large western garden following the lit path and floating paper lanterns after the professors. Igawa no Kagome lead the procession, but walked along side the cobbled path rather than on it. She was followed on the path by Yamato-sama Sensei and the rest of the school.

The garden came to life in the blue and orange glow of the lanterns, the foiliage and water glistening and reflecting a sparkle into the starlit sky. Hermione suspected some sort of magic prevented the light pollution from blocking the stars, making the whole scene appear more like a dream than something in real-life. She hoped that doing this every July-end before she was twenty wouldn't disillusion her from the beauty of it all.

The procession ended and everyone filed neatly into lines of ten in front of the shrine. Haruna-sama and Yamato-sama handed out onigiri to each of the students to offer on the shrine. She gave thanks and watched as everyone came up one at a time to leave their offering and say a silent prayer. She'd read in muggle novels about how certain experiences were "magical", growing up in a magic school meant she never fully understood the metaphor, but she thought she did now. It was so serene and surreal at the same time, like a dream that didn't end with a reminder she could never be wanted.

"Psst!" Hiro whispered in her ear. "It's your turn!"

"Oh!" she whispered back. "Thanks!"

Hermione walked up to the shrine, knelt and placed her onigiri down before clapping her hands together and bowing her head. _A bountiful harvest and calm typhoon season. _A safe autumn, she wished for that here, but back home as well. She rose from her knees and joined Hiro and the others in their row.

"The fireworks are starting soon!" Miyuki cried. "Where are Anya-chan and Kaori-chan?"

"Dunno," Toshio shrugged. "Sam?"

"I haven't seen them," he shrugged. "Saiyaka?"

"No," she shook her head sitting up.

"They'll be here in time," Hiro said offering his hand to help Hermione up. "Oh, erm, Hermione, do you have a moment?"

Hermione nodded, got to her feet and kicked her geta back onto her feet. She followed Hiro away from the group, her hand still in his. They found themselves alone under a massive maple tree. Hiro smiled and took her other hand sending a furious blush to her face.

"You said you don't handle crowds or loud noises well, right?" he asked.

Hermione nodded turning her face to the tree's roots. She thought back to muggle Tokyo and embarrasment washed over her. She wanted to blame her life as a shut in, but as always wondered if she were just a coward. She felt like a child..._You _are _a child, idiot!_

"I know you've probably read about them," Hiro explained. "But fireworks are _loud_. And we didn't exactly choose a place that'll be just us. All the best spots will be crowded. I, erm, just thought you might want a warning."

Hermione did in fact read all about fireworks as soon as she realised she'd be attending a Matsuri festival at the school. She knew what to expect, but if the past year taught her anything, there was a huge difference between reading about a thing, and experiencing it.

"Thank you," she bowed. "I really appreciate that."

"Oh, I also made something for you!" Hiro said.

"Oh, Hiro-kun, you shouldn't have, I-I don't h-"

"I didn't expect anything," he explained presenting her with a scroll.

Hermione opened the scroll to find a coloured painting of a three white lilies surrounded by sakura with the kanji for friendship written beneath it. "Hiro-kun, this is _beautiful!_"

Hiro opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head and smiled. "We should get back to the group."

"Thank you, Hiro-kun," Hermione nodded after furling the scroll and placing it in her bag. "Let's go!"

"Finally!" Miyuki called as they returned. "Kaori-chan and Anya came back just in time for you love-birds to go missing!"

"N-na-" Hermione stammered.

"Now I know my little brother isn't announcing an unexpected romance when I am!" Kaori teased holding hands with Anya, who beamed brightly at her.

"You and Anya?" Hiro asked. "After three years, it's about time!"

"Shut up, idiot!" Kaori stuck her tongue out.

A loud sound peirced their laughter with a whistling before a loud bang echoing through the beach. Hermione gasped and felt Hiro take her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. From her other side she felt Saiyaka squeeze her other hand. She felt her heart beat slow and she turned her eyes to the star-spangled sky with orange, red, green, blue and yellow blooms of light exploding in the sky. After that initial pop, Hermione settled,and enjoyed the fireworks with her freinds around her.

If Hermione lived a thousand years, she was certain she'd remember this night.


	17. B2: Chapter 1: Gilderoy Lockhart

Severus expected to collect a home-sick mess when he entered Tokyo, but was instead met with a bright, beaming girl sitting on the ground with her friends giggling over something or other. He remembered her saying she was nervous about her Japanese, but to hear her respond to the siblings' jokes, or make comments, he never would have known it.

Hermione was horribly jet-lagged, but did seem the better for her month away. She hadn't spent a single night away since he brought her home swaddled in a little pink blanket. Yet she seemed to have legitimately enjoyed her month away. He listened intently as she told him about the month, happy to receive more than a couple of sentences followed by a "have to go!". He noted immediately that she mentioned a number of people not mentioned in her letters. In fact, it seemed she had more friends from Japan now than she did in Hogwarts. That he didn't expect. He had expected her to cling tenaciously to a select few, despite their treatment of her, and to be even more confused socially than she had been in September.

"So, you were quite happy, I take it?" he asked nursing his tea.

"Yeah," Hermione gave a weak smile and her tired eyes looked off into the distance. "I was."

He mused for a moment not really wanting to ask, but if she was happier..."Hermione?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"Would you say you were happier there than here?"

"Heavens no!" Hermione scoffed, her half open eyes now fully opening. "I did love it there, really, but I couldn't do it all year. I'd miss being able to speak English, understanding humour without asking for clarification, and I do have friends here...And I _might_ miss you as well."

He smirked and set his hand on the top of her head. "Might? Thought you'd at least be thirteen before I became trivial."

This earned a giggle from Hermione before she stifled another yawn with her hand. "Is it really only three? I think it was actually easier to adjust going there than coming back."

"Probably because you arrived at night before you would sleep," he suggested. "It's what? Midnight Tokyo time?"

"Something like that," she sighed. "Though it's normal for me to be up this late doing homework. Seven subjects, four clubs, all while trying to keep up on the language. Sleep was optional."

_And yet you look healthier... _"I know we talked about that, love," he sighed. "But I'm not going to waste my breath lecturing you if you can't be bothered listening."

"It's not that I can't be bothered," Hermione shrugged. "I'm capable of prioritizing. If I thought it was harmful, I'd re-prioritize."

_I doubt it, but I'm not going to antagonize you on your first full day back. _"So, no reservations about going back next year?"

Hermione shook her head with a faint smile. "I'm looking forward to going back, actually."

"And yet you don't want to spend the year there?" Severus asked.

"I already told you I didn't and why," Hermione sighed but to his surprise leaned in close with a smirk. "So I don't care if there's a serial killer prowling the corridors and if I'm an exact match for their victimology, I want to do my school year here."

"That's not even remotely funny, Hermione Elizabeth!" he snapped. "Honestly, after last year, you of _all people_ should know better!"

"Sorry!" Hermione shrank back into her chair. "You're right. I wasn't thinking..."

"Evidently," he said. "Though I'm not too worried. The only new addition, aside from first years, to the school this year is the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and he can't seem to tear his eyes from a mirror long enough to plot anyone's downfall. Yes, I imagine you'll be quite safe this year."

"Maybe the gods will take pity on him and turn him into a flower?" Hermione suggested.

"A daffodil might make for a better teacher," he mused.

"Is he really _that _bad?" Hermione asked between giggles.

How he missed that laugh. Sure, Hermione wasn't the happiest child, but she had her moments, and when she did she had simply no idea how contagious it was. He would never tell her, but she was truly the only good thing in his life. A pressure not to put on an already nervous child. He remembered her clinging to his arm in Tokyo, she seemed so scared that he'd wanted to call the whole thing off. But it wasn't just that. He wished it was. But he knew he wanted to keep her around, and the proof that sending her away had been good for her...it was hard to swallow.

"Let's just say," he said. "That I seriously considered seeing to your education in the subject myself after reading his books. Meeting him only reinforced that the need for it."

Hermione bit her lip and her eyes drifted off to the side. She was so transparent he wondered how she ever got away with half the things she did in the previous year.

"However, despite my every instinct," he continued rising and venturing to a bookshelf. "I have decided not to. On the condition you supplement your readings with the standard book for the subject."

"Yessir," she nodded taking the book dropped in front of her. "Thank you."

"You should know," he set his hand on the top of her head again. "I'm relieved you actually _want_ to be here."

* * *

A week passed and Hermione adjusted to the time-zone and summer alone, more or less, with her father. Though she had been given free reign before eight, which she once again used mostly in the library. What wasn't normal was the influx birds that came through the week. She expected letters from Hiro, Ron, and the twins, but she had also received letters from Saiyaka, Toshio, Kaori, Miyuki, Anya and Sam.

"Someone's popular," her father teased over one lunch. "Don't think I've ever seen so many birds in one week. To think I was ever worried you hid in the library all month."

"You're kind of right, that is where we spent most of our time."

"Why am I not surprised?" he smirked. "I can imagine you lot met stalking around the stacks?"

Hermione burst into laughter covering her mouth as she thought about the attempt to capture the library bandit. He was so close and so far, which she was fine with. She'd rather keep her misadventures in Japan to herself. They were hers, and the stack of letters on her bedside table told her that the ones she shared them with actually liked her. She only wished she played more of a roll in the whole case, though now Hiro could feel like something was his.

"Hermione?" her father looked perplexed.

"Sorry!" Hermione regained her composure and made herself sit straight. "I was just reminded of something that happened back in Japan. You, erm, kind of had to be there..."

"I see," he sighed, examining her.

_Does he seem...sad?_ she thought looking into his face, neutral in expression, but something about his eyes communicated some level of, maybe disappointment? Maybe she should have been more forth-coming in her letters rather than simply giving him broad-strokes. Now that she mentioned it, she had not mentioned any of her friends by name until she had been brought back. She should have given him _something_ about her life back there while she was away. Maybe then there'd be less "you had to be there's"...

"It's fine, love," he said as if reading her thoughts. "You were bound to have plenty of moments like that. If you're going to feel guilty about anything, perhaps it should be the vague two sentence reports you saw fit to send while you were away."

_Ouch!_ But he was right. Hermione bowed her head "Sorry, Dad."

"Just agree to write more next year, eh?" he placed his hand on her head.

"I will," she promised.

_Speaking of not writing enough...I see Harry ghosting me, but it's weird he's not written Ron all summer..._

* * *

_Ron,_

_I'm glad to hear you're enjoying your summer. No, I haven't heard from Harry either, and I'm starting to worry! I figured you two would have kept in touch, so you are right, it is odd. My fingers are crossed that things changed since last you wrote. I'm kind of stuck here, so my best advice would be to maybe see if Fred and George can cook something up? I'm not sure...anyway, I'll see if I can come up with anything from here. _

_I won't be able to meet up with you guys before school, I'm afraid. Dad's picked up everything I need while I was in Japan. But I can't wait to meet you guys in September! Hope all is well!_

_Cheers,_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Hiro,_

_You and your family must be excited for Obon! Glad to hear your August is going well! Yeah, I imagine no summer homework is a great advantage of being a transfer student. Sorry to hear you guys are swamped. One step at a time, I guess. It's wonderful to hear Kaori and Anya are still so happy even though Anya's back in Bremerhaven! You and Toshio hanging out must make this summer break much less lonely. I'm so jealous of the photography hikes you two are taking! Mount Fuiji is supposed to be gorgeous! I'm happy you two are hanging out again, I know how lonely you were last summer. It's fantastic you've gotten the old gang back together, even if it was awkward. _

_If you're feeling overwhelmed with your homework try spacing it out? Where Toshio's staying with you, study group? Just don't leave it till the last day. I promise you'll regret it if you do._

_I can't wait to hear more from you!_

_Love,_

_Hermione._

* * *

_Saiyaka,_

_You must be so excited to be visiting Kyoto for a week! I've read so much about it! I know it might but a dent to the rhythm you've set with your summer homework, but if anyone deserves a break, it's you! At least you've started your break homework, so that's something. Both you and your sister were top of your year thus far in your perspective schools? That's incredible! I remember how hard you worked, you've definitely earned it! Sorry to hear you both are fighting though..._

_My advice? I have no siblings, but have you tried asking her why she was mad at you? You only have thirty days together, so they shouldn't be wasted on stupid rows. At the very least, you deserve to know why she's mad at you. If that doesn't work, you tried. That's all you can do.  
_

_Keep me posted._

_Love, _

_Hermione._

* * *

She decided to reply to everyone else later. Exhausted trying to come up with solutions to a multitude of problems from kilometres away, Hermione took to the first of _ten_ books by Gilderoy Lockhart for DADA. She sighed reading through the preface of _Voyages with Vampires._ She decided that Lockhart had to be a great wizard to justify such narcissism. Surely, an adult couldn't be capable of such completely unwarranted confidence? After so many years one _had _to develop a sense of self-awareness, right?

There was nothing really worth taking notes on in the preface, which she could make an exception on her rule about having at least three points every paragraph. She could bare to do it with a preface. But once she got into the meat of the book..._it was all wrong!_ The man detailed trivial matters like his favourite colour, the age he was, a childhood memory the trek reminded him of, etc. Sure, if it were better composed it might make for a good story, but Hermione and the others were supposed to learn DADA from it. What the hell was she supposed to take notes on? _She had to have at least three per paragraph._ She didn't know why, but she was _certain_ she'd fail if she didn't.

She straightened out her quill, inkwell perpendicular to her note book before marking her page between the second and third chapters. If she could cross-reference with other books on Eastern European Vampires, she'd be able to come up with something. There just _had _to be usable content in the book. The professor surely wouldn't have chosen it if there wasn't...she hoped.

_A daffodil might make for a better_ teacher... Hermione was used to her father forming harsh opinions on which ever DADA professor was appointed, but this was exceptionally harsh...maybe it wasn't completely unfounded this time around?

Hermione rounded the corner to find she wasn't alone in the library. A younger man, late twenties, early thirties, with curly gold hair and impeccably dressed in peacock blue robes scanned the shelf. _Must be the new professor. _She didn't know what he was looking for, and moved to leave the stacks when he turned to face her.

"Oh my," the man said. "I didn't know their were students around during the summer!"

He was exceptionally pretty, she gave him that. He had pale unblemished skin, smiling eyes that matched the blue of his robes and hat, and a slender but not too thin physique as well as eerily white perfect teeth. He looked like a..._Shit! That's Gilderoy Lockhart!_

"Erm," Hermione backed up. "Sorry to bother, I'll come back later!"

_What the hell, Dumbledore hired the Gilderoy Lockhart?...if the synopses of those books are right then...he's done so many _amazing _things...something I hope to figure out soon._

"You must be Severus's little girl!" he asked but it sounded like a declaration. "You must forgive me, Harmony, you two don't look much alike! (_Haven't heard that one before!)_ Back from China, I see!"

"Japan, actually," Hermione explained feeling an opinion on the man form independent of the meandering chapters she'd just read. _How the hell did you mix those two up?! And Harmony? Not even remotely similar! No, give him a chance, maybe I misheard him. _

"Ah, Japan," he mused still smiling. "A lovely country. If Professor Dumbledore hadn't reached out to me personally about the position here I would have gone myself. I would like to tackle a Cheonyeo Gwisin!"

"That's a Korean spirit, sir," Hermione mumbled. _Is Asia all one country to you? That's like going to Egypt to fight a Tokoloshe! Though he might lump all Africa together too...Is he _still _smiling?_

"Monsters know no borders, little Harmony," he beamed.

_But most recognize a sea! _"Erm, it's Hermione, sir."

"Of course, Hermione!" he chuckled. "Exactly what I said. You must have misheard me."

"Must have," Hermione said with a fake smile. "I'm actually passed my curfew, so I'll be off!"

Hermione gathered her things and left the library, in a way happy for the intolerable interaction. Had he not been such a bloody git, or they had met after Hermione read the books in full, she could see herself being quite taken by his supposed accomplishments.

* * *

_Hermione,_

_Sorry, we got your letter the day after we got our school things! You will not believe what happened! Or you will if you read the prophet...so you probably do. Great Git Gilderoy Lockhart was signing books at Flourish and Bots and as soon as he found Harry in the crowd, he singled him out and brought him to take pictures. Made up some rubbish about Harry wanting his auto-biography and gave him all his books for free. Might have been nice if it wasn't a press stunt!_

_Which of course got Malfoy's attention, he said some awful things, and his father swooped in. Let me tell you, Hermione, his father is just as bad as he is! If not worse. Makes me so proud Dad decked him right outside the book store! Mum was furious, but it was the highlight of my summer!_

_Harry said he reckons now that you're back home Snape won't let any of his letters through to you, so he says he'll explain in person why he didn't write.  
_

_See you later,_

_Ron._

* * *

"I met Harmony the other day," Lockhart said. "An awkward child. I do hope she grows out of it."

"Oh, yes, she told me _all_ about it," Severus said dismissively wishing Dumbledore would start the damn meeting. _And __I believe the words she used to describe you were 'egotistic, arrogant, ignorant prat' and that she 'would rather be taught by a potted plant'...that's my girl. _"And if _Hermione _seemed awkward, I'm certain it was simply because you seemed out of place."

"Ah, yes," the man gave an arrogant smile. "I imagine she's wondering what someone like myself is doing teaching at a school."

"Oh, I'm sure many of us are thinking that," Severus replied.

McGonagall shushed the others as they began sniggering like children and she herself had been failing to fight a smirk. This was particularly odd, one week so far with the man and the whole staff body seemed as put out by Lockhart as he was. Hermione predicted he wouldn't last past December, something he wasn't surprised by, but the gleam in her eyes imagining him gone did. Perhaps he should have felt sorry for the man, he knew exactly what it was like to exist without a soul giving a damn whether you lived or died...but he was, to use his daughter's terms, 'an egotistic arrogant prat'. _And here I thought she was a poor judge of character!_

"Perhaps we should begin?" Dumbledore chuckled. "I think outside of last year's strange circumstances, we had a successful year, no one failed out, no one got expelled, and we are currently exceeding ministry's academic performance requirements. Which means our focus this year is the welfare of our students. I think we're on the right track there, our students are as safe, happy and healthy as any other group of boarding teenagers out there. Now, despite that some of our professors have brought forth issues. You have the floor, Minevra."

"Thank you, Albus..." McGonagall shifted her stack of papers and addressed the staff.

For someone as strict, hard to please and quick to discipline, McGonagall had quite a bit to say about the emotional welfare of the students and their duty not to harm it. There were veiled references to complaints the school received from parents of students in lower years, or rumoured incidents that he recognized were about him for the most part. Trelawney, Vector and Kettleburne all bowed their heads to avoid McGonagall's withering glare. Flitwick and Sprout were soon mentioned, not by name, but by role as she told them what the heads of houses should be doing to monitor their students' welfare. He wondered what brought on the sudden interest in taking on the role parents were supposed to, but remembered that Neville Longbottom was in her house. A talentless, lazy boy whose only gift was to be greatly pitied by a number of professors and a handful of students...including his daughter.

McGonagall's pleas for attention to students' emotional states were rich, considering her treatment of students in his house. Many students had been convinced by their parents that ending up in Slytherin meant one was evil. He didn't think she believed _that_, however, she was happy to antagonise students that were antagonised by everyone else at large. These were children who had to be convinced that the world outside their small circle cared for them, but were instead showed otherwise. _Though you're not much better are you? And you can't say that your favouritism comes from that alone, now, can you? You stupid piece of shit._

"We can always hold events through out the year!" Lockhart suggested, despite McGonagall having moved to the next item on her agenda.

"There's a question and suggestion period between each speaker, Gilderoy," McGonagall cast a look that Severus had been familiar with since he was a boy.

"Right, my apologies, old girl!" he obliviously beamed.

"I have two names," McGonagall told him, nostrils flaring. "You may use either one of those."

"We're trusting that man to teach children!" Severus hissed as the meeting let out.

"I assure you, a number of people have said the same about you, Severus," McGonagall snapped. "But I do agree with him, Albus. Why him?"

"I imagine he'll have a great deal more to teach than DADA," Dumbledore smiled with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

"If it's too late to find a suitable candidate, headmaster," Severus said. "Hermione has made the exquisite suggestion of a potted plant."

The three of them turned their eyes to see the peacocking silhouette disappearing down the corridor talking the ear off of poor Flitwick and broke into subdued laughter.

"And she came to that conclusion _entirely_ on her own, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"Hermione is perfectly capable of forming her own thoughts," he tried not to snap. "Her abysmal taste in friends is more than enough proof of that. I assure you, headmaster, all she needed was one interaction with the man to come to that conclusion on her own."

McGonagall sighed. "I was worried that every girl would be blinded to his, erm, areas of weakness."

_"My_ little girl is far too smart for such nonsense," Severus turned to Dumbledore. "I think we are both _very_ interested in what his areas of strength are, headmaster."

"Yes, I do believe it's high-time I fill you two in," Dumbledore nodded. "Come up to my office and I'll tell you my plan."

* * *

"Such a studious child," Lockhart beamed sitting on the table Hermione had been trying to work on. "Tell me, Hermione, do you spend every day couped up in the library?"

_At least he got my name right._

Harassing Hermione became his new way of staving off loneliness while the other professors set about their actual work. This was the last day he would find Hermione here during the summer. She was determined not to listen to another lecture about how universally admired he was. She patiently nodded and smiled providing pensive hmms and haws at appropriate moments in his speech. He really did like the sound of his own voice.

"And that is why you should always pack an extra hair brush when you travel."

"Yes, simply fascinating, professor," Hermione said. "But as riveting as that is, I really must go."

Hermione sped down the corridor as quickly as she could without running, her eyes firmly planted in her copy of _Standard Book of Spells __Grade 2._ If Lockhart called after her, she was simply absorbed in her book. She was on the chapter on movement charms when she bumped into something rather soft and solid.

"Oh! Professor," Hermione panicked picking up her book. "I am _so so _sorry!"

"I recommend reading in the library, not while walking about the corridors." McGonagall chastised. "Can you even read at the pace you were keeping?"

"Sorry!" she said again. "I'll keep better mind of my surroundings. Are you okay?"

McGonagall rolled her eyes at this. "I'm not so old and fragile that a girl half my size will break me."

"Sorry, Professor," she bit her lip. "I didn't mean, I, erm, I-I-did I mention I was sorry?"

"You did," McGonagall sighed. "Eyes up, girl. I can't have Gryffindor's top student afraid of her own shadow, can I?"

"Yes, professor," Hermione nodded. _I'm not afraid of my own shadow. _"Erm, professor?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have anything you need help with?" she asked too quickly. "Filing, sorting, inventory, anything? There was so much for me to help with last summer."

"So eager to please," McGonagall smiled placing a hand on her shoulder. "But I'm afraid not. You have one week of summer vacation left, go enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. If you don't you'll regret it when you're my age!"

"Erm, professor," she said. "If you're heading to the library, _he's _in there and looking for anything with two ears for company."

"Thank you, Hermione!" McGonagall whispered before turning on her heels.

* * *

"You're such a sweet little girl," Professor Sprout smiled pinching Hermione's cheeks. "But I really don't need any help. Go outside and play!"

Hermione left the greenhouse frustrated but with the understanding that Sprout wanted her work to keep her busy until students arrived to avoid Lockhart. She b-lined for Hagrid's hut.

"I'd love ter have yer help, Hermione," Hagrid smiled. "But I'm afraid I have some very dangerous beasts ter wrangle. Can't be bringin' an underage witch with me. No matter how clever."

"I can mind Fang!"

"Takin' Fang with me, Hermione. Enjoy yer summer while it lasts or you'll regret it when yer my age, I reckon!"

Every other teacher she could find gave her the same response. Where was the concern for enjoying her childhood when she was scrambling over herself to get a million things done? Couldn't her father have at least set her up with a million pointless things to do? He was good at that. Hermione couldn't even hide in the secret passage off the library with Pince floating around busying herself to keep from engaging Lockhart.

She decided to make her way back home and decided to ask her father again for busy work when he finished his meeting with Dumbledore. He'd be thrilled she still wanted to volunteer, even if he picked up on why. And it wasn't like she_ didn't_ want to help her father...till then she could study on her own there, safe from meandering stories.

* * *

"Inventory's done!" Hermione presented him with a complete and detailed list in very legible writing.

"Thank you, love," Severus said combing over her work. "Though given that you only had a few short weeks to get through your reading list, I must say I'm curious as to why you volunteered."

"Can I not want to help my poor father?" Hermione asked sitting opposite him and set to work stripping willow roots.

"I feel like we've had this conversation before," he mused storing his own roots into a jar. "Just tell me you've finished your class readings before you started trolling around for things to do."

"Yes, sir, I did," she nodded stripping the next root.

"I suppose I should have figured that," he said, his eyes drifted to the book . "So if I asked you how to immobilize an one large assailant or a group of small assailants...?"

"_Immobilus,"_ Hermione answered.

"How do you recognize if a person is confounded?"

"Flat or giggly affect, hard time forming sentences, and doesn't recognize inconsistencies in their own accounts when questioned."

Severus mused for a moment before setting his knife down and leaning in, she would never be tested on his next question, but she needed to know.. "How can you ensure the person you're dealing with is truthful?"

"Oh, erm," Hermione mused for a bit. She stared at her roots and bit her lip before muttering: "I mean, erm, I guess there's vereserum, but that has its own pitfalls...legillimancy, but I'd be hopeless there at my age...lie detecting artifacts...though they aren't entirely reliable...I, erm, I-I'm afraid I, erm, don't know, sir."

"That's because it was a trick question," he admitted placing his hand on her head. "All of the things you mentioned are decent tools, but there is no substitute for being observant. Keep your wits about you, love, and you might be safe. The _instant_ you even think you notice something odd, I want you to find me. It very well might be nothing, but I'm not finding out you've put yourself in mortal danger after the fact again."

"You said it yourself, Dad," Hermione said. "This is going to be a normal year. I'll be perfectly safe...assuming Professor Lockhart doesn't cause me to beat my head against a wall so hard I sustain brain damage. Do you think he'll be more tolerable if I do that?"

"My dear, no amount of brain damage will make that man tolerable," he sighed. "Tell me that wasn't your strategy for dealing with Potter and Weasley?"

"You _promised_ you'd give those two a chance, Dad," Hermione pleaded.

"And for you, I will," he brushed her hair from her eyes. "But you should know that those boys are on _very _thin ice."

"Then I guess it's a good thing absolutely nothing is going to happen," Hermione said.

_Somehow I doubt it..._


	18. B2:Chapter 2: Flying Cars and Mistakes

Hermione lingered by the entrance hall, craning her neck to try and make people out from the cluster that poured out of the carriages. As the figures descended upon the hall, Hermione spied three very tall red heads with a boy wearing dreadlocks. She squeezed between the masses, apologizing if she came into contact with anyone and found Lee Jordan and the elder Weasley boys.

"Hi, Hermione!" Fred beamed.

"Our baby brother not with you?" George asked.

"I was here from the start," she explained. "So I didn't need to take the train in. I thought he and Harry might be with you."

"No," George mused.

"Don't think I've seen them since we crossed the barrier." Fred mused.

"They'll turn up somewhere, Hermione," Percy said pushing up his glasses. "I should get going." he called out over her shoulder. "Penny! Wait up."

"Let's talk DADA Pool," George whispered mischievously.

"I want to wait until we have classes with the new teacher before I bet," Lee explained.

"That's not a bad idea," Hermione agreed. "Spent all month with him and I can't gauge his tenacity...Wait! You haven't seen them at all? What if they're still in London?"

"I had an owl come in saying your two idiots were flying a car to school!" a voice giggled.

Hermione turned to see Pansy Parkinson clinging to Draco Malfoy's arm. Pansy was a bit taller than Malfoy with long black hair tied back in a green scrunchie, and a mean glimmer in her brown eyes. Malfoy was a bit smaller than average, very pale with white-blond hair and a permanent sneer on his pointed face. The two were made for each other, though despite Hermione's first impressions, Pansy wasn't unilaterally cruel like Malfoy was.

"That's rubbish, Pansy," Hermione rolled her eyes. _After begging them to not give my father a reason to go after them, it better be! _"I doubt I can think of anyone that thick!"

"It's in the paper! Look on the bright side," Malfoy sneered. "Once Potter and Weasley are expelled you'll only have Longbottom to mind!"

"Until he fails out!" Pansy laughed.

"Oh, Pansy," Hermione cooed. "We've certainly studied together enough for me to know you should focus on your own studies."

"Oh, sweetie," Pansy mimicked her cooing. "At least I have things to focus on outside of studies, but I'm sure it'll come in time."

_Sweetie? Far cry from stupid ugly bitch. _It seemed her father's position bought her false civility from the Slytherins. Pansy had been terribly cruel to Hermione when they first met, but as soon as Pansy learned her last name, she tried to make a show of friendship. Which ended with the girls using each other. Hermione couldn't tell if this were good or bad. It was exhausting to keep up the facade and all three of them were clueless as to which of them had more power in the relationship.

"Fred, George, Hermione!" Neville called waving from the distance.

Shock widened his blue eyes and his round face paled as he saw Pansy and Malfoy turning their cruel eyes toward him.

"Let's go, Pansy," Malfoy said. "I can feel my IQ getting lower with each new addition."

"Ignore those gits, Neville," George said.

"I personally don't think it's possible for Malfoy's IQ to dip any further," Fred added.

"He's a little bitch," Hermione mused. "But he's still clever and connected enough to make our lives hell. Don't be afraid of them, Neville, but you do need to be careful."

Neville's face went pink and he nodded with a gulp. _I am a stupid piece of shit! Why'd I say that?_

"Shall we head in?" Fred asked.

"Go ahead," Hermione smiled. "I'll catch up to you guys."

* * *

There was a tree close to the Great Hall's window. If Harry and Ron came up, she was certain Ron would want to see where his sister was sorted. She climbed into the tree and hid among it's bushy foliage, keeping her eyes glued to the starry sky. All she had to do was watch and wait for a car to land on the ground, get their attention and sneak them into a school praised for its security without a soul noticing. Nothing too difficult..._  
_

That was when she saw it. Headlights blot out the stars and bathed the yard in their yellow glow, the car very loudly putting as it streaked across the sky. _How does anyone hide _that?! _Keep calm and wait for them to land._

That was when the car came crashing into the Whomping Willow like a giant blue brick sending timbers and car parts into the night. _Shit!_ The tree reacted to the threat trying to throw the car out of its branches, swinging its free branches to wail on the unknown assailants. Hermione jumped to attention at the first metallic crunch that echoed through the night. She scrambled down the tree and drew her wand. She ran to the car, still trying to evade attention, keeping to walls, plants and shadows. She should have just ran to them, but she couldn't make herself obey her mind. At least this time she was moving.

Once she got to the tree she cast a shrinking curse on a number of the branches, minimizing their impact on the car. Once the car was no longer being pounded relentlessly, teetered on the its precarious perch an fell out of the tree. _Shit! Do something, something..._

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

That didn't cause the car to float like smaller objects she had practised with, but it did soften the blow as it came to the ground. It landed centimetres from Hermione's feet. Through the cracked windscreen Harry and Ron exchanged shocked glances, their pale faces standing out in the dark interior. That was when all four doors sprang open and some force threw Harry, Ron and their luggage out on the grass before speeding off into the forest.

"Are you guys, okay?" Hermione whispered kneeling next to Ron.

"Mum's going to _murder me_..." Ron gulped. "What're you-"

"Helping," she whispered. "Keep your voice low."

"What," Harry asked finding his feet "Was _that!"_

"Whomping Willow," she explained gathering the boys' luggage into one neat pile. "It's been here as long as I can remember. What was that spell again, oh!" and Hermione sent the luggage and Hedwig to the Gryffindor tower. "It'll be easier getting you into the school without-"

"What did you just do?" Ron said, his blue eyes wide and fixed at the spot where his luggage was.

"Sent it to Gryffindor tower," Hermione explained.

"Wait, Whomping Willow?" Harry asked.

"A very violent tree planted here a long time ago. It attacks perceived threats to itself. Don't know why it's even here. We should go. Do you have the invisibility cloak?"

"I did," Harry said. "But you sent it to Gryffindor tower."

"Shit!" Hermione slapped her forehead.

* * *

A ringing filled Severus's ears and he knew exactly what was responsible for it. _That girl is going to_ regret _this once I'm done with Potter and Weasley! _He drew his wand and silently cast the counterspell before closing his eyes to figure out where the sound was coming from. If he was affected by the spell, they were very close, indeed.

"Not everyone's fluent in Hermione!" A boy-Weasley- hissed.

He followed the sounds of their voices knowing Hermione would assume her spell was still in effect. The conversation continued down the corridor, and he saw why Hermione felt the need to use the spell in the first place.

Hermione's voice hissed something back that he couldn't make out, but whatever it was, it offended Weasley.

"Not knowing what you mean by waving your hands around doesn't make me an idiot. If you're so bloody angry with us why are you even bothering helping us? And we told you what happened! I don't even know why you're angry!"

"I _begged _you two not to give my father anything else to use against you this year and you _flew a car_ into school on the first day!" Hermione's voice became shrill. "And I had _somehow _convinced him to give you another chance. That's not something I'm going to convince him of a second time."

"Hermione," Potter ventured. "It wasn't like we were looking to make trouble. We didn't know what else to do."

"If only you had access to an owl and someone to receive it at the school to go get help!" Hermione hissed before softening her voice, "I don't understand wh-"

"Oh, skip the lecture!" Weasley snapped.

"Sorry," she sighed. "I don't think either of you two are idiots, I-"

"Could have fooled me," Weasley groaned.

"I just wish you thought about it a little more before you decided that was your only option. I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed. Let's just get the hell out of here before you're found. If my father knows he'll be out for blood."

That was when he rounded the corner to find the three of them, Hermione's back to him, and the two boys gaped up at him looking as if the reaper himself appeared before them. Hermione on the other hand buried her head in her hands and grumbled.

"There's a professor right behind me, isn't there?"

"And apparently one that's 'out for blood'," he said coolly. "Though he may settle for an explanation for why you boys weren't on the train? It must be _very_ good to have convinced _my daughter_ to throw away everything to sneak them into the school."

Hermione now turned to face him, but her eyes were still firmly set on her feet.

"Right," he said. "Follow me."

* * *

"Sit down," her father barked.

The three of them obeyed silently, and Hermione noticed her father did not do the same. She imagined he would pace around them or lean over them to really lean into the power imbalance between them. Hermione was the only person he ever made an effort to be eye-level with, and never while he was angry. And her father was very angry at the moment.

Hermione listened in silence while her father entered a monologue about how the train wasn't "cool enough for Harry Potter and his sidekick", and all the damage they'd caused. It was a monologue because he silenced any attempt on Harry or Ron's part to clarify the situation. Hermione suddenly felt very bad about snapping at them.

"Where's the car?" he asked.

Ron gulped before exchanging a confused look with Harry. Hermione sat on Ron's left staring at her clasped hands as she dug her nails into them. Were they expelled? What would happen after that? Hermione wondered if they might have gotten more than half-way to Gryffindor tower if she had not been there to hinder them. Would their expulsion be her fault? _Don't be ridiculous! McGonagall won't expel them! And if she would, she would either way. You were sneaking them in to avoid this...Fat lot of good that did!_

Her father produced a news paper and Hermione realized Draco Malfoy had been very, very right. Hermione's stomach churned as he read the article aloud. "Do you boys have _any_ idea what you've done? The ministry is under fire by the press. I believe your father works in the department of Muggle Artifacts?" he tutted. "His own son... well, your father and I might have something in common after tonight." He turned to Hermione at that. "Can you imagine, little girl? A child betraying the trust of their father and his coworkers? Poor Arthur Weasley must be profoundly disappointed."

Hermione bit her lip and dug her nails in deeper. If his goal was to make her feel guilty, he succeeded.

"At least the Department of Muggle Artifacts didn't see Weasley grow from infancy!" he spat. "Sneaking people into the castle, undermining security measures we have worked so hard to set up! I assure you, I am not the only one who is _shocked and disgusted_ by your behaviour!"

Hermione felt every muscle in her body tense involuntarily and stared firmly at the ground. What had she done? She didn't spare Harry and Ron any trouble and she just destroyed any attempts she and her father had made over the summer to re-build trust. How the hell could she have been so damn stupid? _Don't you dare fucking cry...it'll make everything worse! _She felt something wet on the tips of her fingers after a sharp pain on the back of her hands. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.

"And you were doing so well since you returned too..." her father sighed. "Month's detention should set you straight if I can rescue you from _expulsion_. You boys destroy everything you touch, don't you? _She _had a future. Since you idiots aren't in Slytherin I can't expel you, so I shall fetch those who do possess that happy power. And don't expect Professor McGonagall to be _stupid_ enough to fall for whatever sob story you fed my child!" he turned to Hermione. "I don't know if I can convince her not to expel you as well. Even with your test scores, I won't be able to convince a single headmaster to take you if she does!"

"Wow," Ron breathed at after the door slammed. "_How_ did you survive twelve years of _that?"_

"H-he, erm, he's not normally like this..." Hermione squeaked. "At least not with me, erm, not often...I'm the one that messed up-"

"He's _really _done a number on your brain, hasn't he?" Ron scoffed.

Hermione bit her lip and sat in silence not wanting to tell him how right he was. She still didn't trust her own memories. She silently reviewed every moment with her father for inconsistencies.

"What do you reckon will happen?" Harry asked no one in particular.

"No one's going to expel you, Harry," Hermione lifted her eyes from the floor to meet their gaze. "If I'm honest, I'm more worried about Ron."

"Why?" Ron knit his red eyebrows, and twisted his mouth in thought.

"We _really fucked up_ here, Ron," Hermione explained between controlled breaths. "You were _seen,_ that breaks the statute of secrecy, and I snuck you in after the fact. I've seen a student nearly be expelled for less. We're probably done here..."

Harry narrowed his green eyes and examined her face. "Why wouldn't I be expelled too?"

"You still don't know, do you?" Hermione asked returning her gaze to the floor. "You're, erm, Harry, you're like the second coming of Merlin and Jesus all rolled into one in our world. Expelling you would be _suicide_ for the school's reputation."

"B-but that hardly seems fair," Harry said.

"It's not," Hermione agreed venturing eye contact. "Life's not fair. You know that better than the rest of us."

Harry nodded solemnly, his face pale as if he didn't quite buy that he was safe and Ron stared at Harry a mix of pity and fear flashing across his freckled face. She wondered what would happen to her if she were expelled. She knew it wouldn't be easy for Ron, but after a while he might adjust to a less than ideal life with his family. At least she hoped. But if she were expelled...she imagined life confined to her living quarters with her father constantly looming over her, reminding her that she threw everything away _for nothing_. She shuddered and cast her eyes back to the ground. Nothing was exactly what she accomplished.

"Mum's going to flay me," Ron whispered.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said.

"No, mate," he sighed. "You told me the car was bad idea..."

"What's going to happen to you?" Harry asked.

A silence passed, she had expected Ron to answer his question, but instead when she heard his voice it was saying: "Hello, earth to Hermione!"

"Oh, sorry!" Hermione squeaked. "I, erm, thought Harry was talking to you. Erm, I expect I'll be fine."

"Really?" Harry and Ron asked skeptically.

"Honestly, you two!" she groaned. "It's like you think he's a monster!"

"Well," Ron ventured. "He did-"

"Save Harry's life last year," she said. "And oh! Raised me on his-"

"Oh, come off it!" Ron sent his eyes to heaven with a groan. "Were you dropped on the head as a baby?"

"Weasley," a cold voice said behind him. "I knew you were an idiot, but I hadn't any clue you were a _cruel_ idiot."

"Calm down, Severus," Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder and turned to face the three of them.

McGonagall followed the two men into the room looking almost as angry as her father.

_ Shit!_

* * *

"I believe _you_ have an owl, Potter," McGonagall said after hearing the boys' story.

Hermione's shrill comment to Potter now made sense to Severus. He wondered if she even crossed either boy's mind as a possible solution to the problem, given their apparent inability of considering Dumbledore or McGonagall's ability to help. He wasn't satisfied with the explanation, but he didn't doubt it was truthful. This was nothing more than Potter showcasing his ineptitude in problem solving. He wondered why the barrier had been tampered with, but turned his thoughts to the situation at hand. McGonagall moved from livid to exasperated, and wouldn't even look at Hermione.

"We weren't thinking, Professor," Potter admitted.

"That," McGonagall said. "Is abundantly clear!"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore interjected. "Harry, it might be in your best interest to consider asking for help when faced with such issues. There will always be help for you at Hogwarts."

"I-I'm-" Potter stammered. "We're not expelled, sir?"

"No, Potter," McGonagall said. "You're not expelled. Though what you did was incredibly reckless. You three will be receiving detention. And I will be writing your parents."

That hardly seemed proportional. However, he couldn't say he was surprised. Nothing beyond violence that caused irreparable harm would earn them anything greater than a detention. Though it also meant he didn't have to go begging other schools to accept Hermione. The woman seemed to make herself a surrogate grandmother to the girl, and he doubted she would suffer expulsion for anything less than illegal.

"You also will be forgoing the feast tonight," McGonagall said. "I won't be having you parade into the Great Hall after that stunt."

"Erm, Professor," Weasley said. "My little sister, Ginny, started this year-"

"Sorting's already happened," McGonagall shrugged. "It won't come as a surprise to you that she was sorted into Gryffindor."

"Thank you."

_Were the hell was that humility when you called Hermione brain-damaged? _He turned his gaze to a very still and silent Hermione, the news she wasn't expelled didn't seem to relieve her in the slightest, her gaze didn't leave the floor since they entered the room. Come to think of it, he hadn't heard her say a word since he found them in the corridor. Though she must have said _something _to Weasley to illicit such a comment.

"You three will sta-" McGonagall started.

"Actually," Severus interrupted. "I would like a word alone with my daughter. You can set the boys up elsewhere."

McGonagall, Potter and Weasley all looked at Hermione, who still made no indication she knew they were there, with palpable pity. What the hell did they think he was going to do to her? After everything his own father did, he couldn't bring himself to so much as spank her. And-thought it was an accident- he was still wracked with guilt over the head injury she sustained as a baby. _Though playing with her memory was fair game? _

"Very well," McGonagall clapped. "Follow me, boys."

Dumbledore lingered after McGonagall led the boys out, heads bowed in shame. He didn't like the way Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses, his blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight with a knowing gleam. He placed a hand on his shoulder like he did when Severus was a boy.

"I'm reminded of a nervous twelve-year-old boy who sat in my office about twenty years ago because he thought he was doing the right thing," he mused. "Don't be too hard on the girl."

"As always, headmaster, your input is appreciated," he said. "But I do believe I am capable of determining how to appropriately deal with my own child."

"Understood, Severus," Dumbledore sighed before casting his eyes toward Hermione for a moment before leaving.

_Condescending bastard...No amount of respect I have for you will blind me to that._ He thought watching Dumbledore leave before shutting the door behind him and turning to Hermione, still trying her best to shrink away to nothing.

"You, young lady," he seethed. "Will explain yourself!"_  
_

"I, erm, I, erm,-"

"_Now!"_

She squeaked and flinched before stammering her way to something that resembled a sentence. "I thought if I could get them through unnoticed Professor McGonagall would be more willing to hear them out the morning after-"

"You little idiot," he strode over next to her. "Whatever decision she was going to make wasn't going to change with the passing of a single night. You've accomplished nothing!"

Hermione bit her lip and looked at the floor solemnly, her little face barely visible. He imagined she was very aware of that.

"Well, nothing other than getting yourself involved!" he snapped. "This could have been avoided if you hadn't leapt into to trouble in a feeble attempt to rescue them from their own stupidity. I want you to think about that, assuming you're even capable of forming your own thoughts!"

Hermione might have been replaced by a clay replica and he would have no idea. She maintained her bowed head over clasped hands and hunched over as small as she could make herself without making a sound. He wondered if she were retreating into her own head again, either for distraction or to find some way to smooth over the situation. _This is not at all what I was hoping for when we've finally got things back to normal..._

He let the silence pass between them and wondered just what the hell was going on inside that little head of hers. How could she have been so damn foolish as to try to aid them? Surely, she should have known how this would all pan out. Had she succeeded in getting them to Gryffindor Tower unnoticed, the whole school would have still talked, the article in _the Prophet_ would still exist what McGonagall's judgements would have remained unchanged. Though telling her all of this had the same effect as reprimanding her for trying to fix a broken jar when she was five. She knew what she did was incredibly stupid, perhaps knew in the moment that it was, and she couldn't help herself. Where did this impulse to fix everything at her own expense come from?

"You're right," Hermione finally spoke. "It was stupid. But I couldn't-if I could help and didn't, I'd be complicit in whatever happened to them."

"Complicit?" he scoffed. "Hermione, those boys brought what resulted upon themselves. And if you ask me, it wasn't nearly harsh enough. A single detention and a letter home for breaking the law. Had any other student pulled the same stunt they'd be expelled or at least suspended."

"Maybe they wouldn't be," Hermione said venturing eye contact. "You heard what they said about the barrier."

"Regardless of their reasoning," he sighed. "The severity of the situation should be impressed upon them. Which is exactly what I intend to do with you. Now, can you tell me why we hide from muggles?"

"Because muggles see us as a threat, outnumber us and the panic would lead to war." Hermione answered. "But I'm not sure I believe tha-"

"You should," he told her. "You've led an incredibly sheltered life, and as much as I believe it was for your own good, you were deprived of a very important life lesson. The world out there is cold, cruel and muggles and wizards are on constant brink of war with their own. Of course not all muggles would move to exterminate a people, but it would be easy for a handful of the wrong muggles to find out about us and whip up hysteria. If that happened, countless on both sides would die. I know you don't want that."

"No, sir," she choked. She had known all this before, but judging by her expression, it seemed to be the first time she _thought_ about it. "I don't think anyone does."

"You would be surprised," he said thinking about how eagerly some stoked the flames of war less than twenty years ago."There are _many_ who want that more than anything."

Hermione's face drained of colour and her eyes grew in size at that. He wasn't sure what she was picturing, but she seemed legitimately surprised that there would be some out there that would relish in such horrors.

He didn't know if twelve was too young to know such things, or if he'd done a great disservice not telling her earlier...

"I wish it were different, love," he placed a hand on her head and sat next to her. "I don't expect you to understand everything at your age, but you should know how dangerous one reckless act can be, not just for you, but for everyone. Do you understand?"

"Yessir," Hermione nodded.

"Hermione," he said before she left. "I don't want to hear any of your flimsy defences for those boys this year. I told you those boys were on thin ice and they _flew a car _ threw it."


	19. B2:Ch3 Problems with Gilderoy Lockhart

"We have herbology, charms and transfiguration before lunch," Hermione said coming over the time-table. "Then DADA...brace yourselves for that one."

"Aren't you supposed to be good at answering questions?" Ron teased around a mouthful.

"As you can see," Hermione rolled her eyes setting down her timetable. "I haven't been pulled out of classes, transferred and am still alive. I'm fine! I haven't a clue why you're asking. Honestly!"

Harry set his fork down and leaned over the table narrowing his green eyes and whispering. "Because if _that's_ the way he spoke to you in front of us, we assumed it'd be worse when we left. The Dursleys don't even speak to me like that in public."

"I am _begging you _to stop comparing him to the Dursleys," she sighed. "Do you really think I'm going to fall apart at a couple of insults?" Hermione scoffed.

The two exchanged a knowing look and Hermione wanted to sink into the floor. They knew the answer to that since something Ron said a year ago had sent her to peices and had her weeping in the girls' toilets like Moaning Myrtle...a fate she almost suffered when Harry and Ron went looking for her, but found the troll and lured it into a room with an outside lock. Something that might have been smart had that room not been the girls' toilets she hid in. Luckily they heard her attempt to cast a spell and barged in to save her. Hermione remembered how useless she felt as she froze. A performance repeated several times during their attempts to prevent Voldemort from seizing the stone. She hoped she could be more useful this year...

"Great," Hermione muttered hitting her head on the table. "My friends think I'm too emotionally frail to handle a couple insults and my father thinks I can't think for myself. I think I've lost my appetite."

"He's not going to hoover over you all year again, is he?" Harry asked.

"I didn't think he was planning on it, but after trying to sneak the two of you in? I don't know..." Hermione sighed. "I don't even know why I did it to be honest...I should have known better. Nothing would have changed if I succeeded."

"Because you're a good person who wanted to try to help her friends?" Harry suggested. "So, you got to meet Lockhart. Is he as-erm-"

"As stupid as he seems?" Ron cut Harry off.

"Let people finish their sentences, Ron," Hermione grumbled lifting her head. "And I don't know about stupid, but he's certainly very oblivious. Man can't seem to spare a single thought toward anything that isn't himself. I expect him to drown in a still pool because he caught a glimpse of his reflection."

"If he insists on using me as a prop again I might just have to flood the floor of his office," Harry grumbled.

The three of them burst into laughter until a familiar flash of light and click blinded them.

"Bakka! To-!" Hermione started before she remembered she was back home. _Other people take photos incessantly, and your friend is famous. Stupid piece of shit..._

The ambush photographer was a very tiny boy with curly blond hair and grey eyes, he looked as fragile and tiny as her father claimed she was. He must have been a first year, where she didn't recognize him. The camera slung around his neck was high quality and comically large on him.

"Sorry!" she said.

The boy didn't seem to upset, instead he was looking rather starry-eyed at Harry, the prodigal son. It was easy to forget how some would stare at him between incidents. All three of them were so unassuming, only wanting to mind their own business, so the attention made each of them uncomfortable. They turned their heads down as the boy introduced himself.

"I'm Collin Creevy!" he beamed. "I've heard so much about you, Harry! Can I ask you to si-"

"Oh! Look!" Hermione pointed before anyone could overhear Colin ask for signed photos. "It's the owl post!"

Hermione spied three ravens among the mass of owls and forgot momentarily about having to arrange detentions with her father and the ensuing lecture. The thrill of letters from Japan that replaced her dread was replaced once again when a great tawny owl crashed into the Gryffindor table straight into a plate of toast in front of Ron, the table exploded into laughter and Ron's ears turned a violent pink.

"Oh no!" he said.

"It's okay," Hermione poked the shallowly breathing owl. "He's still alive. Might need a respite though, don't you little one?"

"It's not that," Ron gulped nudging a shaking envelope. "It's _this!_ Mum's sent me a _howler._"

"What is that?" Harry and Hermione asked in unison.

"_You_ don't know?" Ron asked incredulously. "Didn't read about them?"

"You have to open it right away, Ron," Neville whispered. "It'll burst if you don't."

Ron gulped again and opened the letter, which which silenced the laughter with a rumbling roar that echoed through the great hall: "_HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR!_"

The letter chastised Ron for what felt like an eternity in what she imagined was his mother's voice. She watched with the greatest sympathy as Ron flinched at the claims his father was facing an enquiry at work, and that they could have died of shame. The one blessing is that she'd never accused him of going mad or being completely stupid, though the letter screaming at him in front of all his peers lost Mrs. Weasley the points she earned with Hermione by not doing those. Where did Ron get off accusing her father of ruining her? Hermione kept that to herself and placed her letters in the book she was reading. "Shall we grab our bags?"

Ron and Harry leapt at the chance to leave and they ducked out of the Great Hall with their heads bowed and took a round about way to the portrait hole, to avoid the attention Colin or the howler would bring.

"Let's get to herbology before Colin finds us," Harry grumbled after explaining his excessive fanboying when they returned to the common room.

"I kind of feel bad for him," Hermione mused.

"_I'm_ not the one who yelled at him Japanese," Harry said.

"I was taken aback from the flash," Hermione admitted feeling her cheeks flush. "My friend Toshio was constantly taking pictures of everything!"

"How'd you deal with him?" Harry asked.

"Assignments from the school paper," Hermione explained.

"Hi, Harry!" a voice called as they passed the Whomping Willow.

Professor Sprout stood by the tree wrapping the branches with bandages while Lockhart stood beside her beaming at the three of them. The typically cheerful, warm woman wore a rare scowl directed at him again.

"Hi, professor," Harry said.

"I've just been showing Professor Sprout how to treat the Whomping Willow!"

A rare groan escaped Sprout's lips as she turned to the three of them. "We'll be in the greenhouse today, chaps! I'll be there momentarily."

"This is perfect!" Lockhart beamed. "I've been wanting a word with Harry. You don't mind if he's a bit late, do you, Professor Sprout."

"As a matter of fact-"

"Lovely! I'll send him in after you lot."

Hermione and Ron mouthed a good luck to Harry and walked down with the greenhouse with a scowling Sprout in their company.

"We're so sorry, Professor," Hermione said.

"Oh, that man is going to _destroy_ the Whomping Willow!" she moaned. "But you two didn't hear that from me, got it?"

Ron and Hermione nodded.

Hermione and Ron found their place along a long trough of potted plants with dark green ovular leaves beside a trio of Hufflepuffs, Hannah, Susan and Justin. Hermione examined the dark, veiny leaves and realized they were working with mandrakes! She had read so much about mandrakes and over the years helped prepare roots, flowers and leaves for classes. She had never once seen a live mandrake, with the exception of budding seedlings that she helped tend to over the years. _These _mandrakes would have formed faces on their roots! She never got to see them once their mouths formed. She was "too young and far too frail" according to her father.

"These are mandrakes!" she told Ron in an excited whisper. "Their flowers are used in ageing potions, their leaves can be used to reverse transformations and are used in animagi rituals and the roots-"

"Are you out for Professor Sprout's job?" Ron scoffed. "I don't see why you're so excited about a bunch of leaves."

"Because mandrakes are cool!" Neville agreed beside them. "They can do so many things...but they also have a cry that can kill you. That's, erm, less cool."

"Sorry!" Harry called popping between Ron and Hermione. "Did I miss anything?"

"Just Hermione waxing poetic about a bloody plant!" Ron scoffed.

"Harry, we're working with _mandrakes_!" she said, and her heart dropped as she realized only Neville seemed to give a damn.

The lecture began with a less frazzled Sprout telling them about the mandrakes and asking pointed questions here or there, rewarding correct students with points, earning both Hermione and Neville a sidelong glance from Ron when they refused to raise their hands. She finished the lecture by telling them at this point in their lives, the mandrake cry would only cause them to faint. The lot of them made sure they securely fastened a set of ear muffs over their ears, Hermione and Neville opting out of the scramble left Hermione with a set that matched Sprout's fuzzy pink ones but spared Neville the embarrassment as he grabbed the last normal pair. Everyone grabbed their mandrakes by the stem clusters and Hermione noticed a nervous glance from Sprout directed her way. She wondered briefly which of them would receive more of an earful if Hermione did faint.

They lifted their mandrakes to find a grey-brown fetal form with branch like appendages sprouting from folded "limbs" over its almost potato-like body. A face like that new born wailed with shut eyes and Hermione was reminded of a very underdeveloped baby constructed from plant matter. It seemed so different from the pictures in the books, and she hoped that it resembled something less human when they fully developed. She hadn't much time to think of it when Neville's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fainted.

* * *

"Why," McGonagall grumbled. "Do you all keep coming to me? I don't have the power to convince the headmaster to sack him! It's the first day, Pomona!"

Severus smirked behind his book watching the conversation between Sprout and McGonagall.

"It's the first day for the students!" Sprout pouted. "We've had to deal with his massive ego for over thirty now!"

"We're adults, Pomona," McGonagall scowled. "We can handle a little ego. We've dealt with worse. Isn't that right, Severus?"

_I had to linger to watch it_ _unfold! _"We have to stand by the headmaster, I'm afraid," he sighed. "And before you ask, I'm _not_ okay with it. I just know the headmaster has his reasons."

"Which I imagine you're both privy to?" she asked looking from him to McGonagall.

McGonagall hesitated, her beady eyes drifting to a far corner of the room. They were both indeed privy to Dumbledore's reasons for hiring the idiot, but the sheer absurdity of it seemed to render the old woman incapable of coming up with a cover story. He rose from his chair and closed his book approaching the woman.

"I have a deep respect for the headmaster," he began. "But if there is one major flaw in the man, it's that he doesn't feel the need to explain himself. You are far from the only one who's suffered Lockhart questioning your expertise and making matters worse," he shook his head. "At least _yours _is only professional."

"Sorry, Severus," Sprout said. "That can't be easy given, erm, everything."

Everything being that he had now applied for the job several times, had Lockhart chosen over him, and now had to listen to Lockhart's unwarranted and useless bragging and "advice". The man had a comment on everything any of them did, and he was often wrong. Most recently Lockhart had thoughts his handling of Hermione. One of those would be enough to make him despise the arrogant prat, but all of them together made him _loathe_ the man. At least he now had a point of commonality with his other colleagues. None of them could stand Gilderoy Lockhart.

"If I'm half as petty as lot make me seem," Severus mused. "I might just be enjoying my brief reprieve from most hated enough to endure our collective misery."

"Ouch," Sprout said looking at McGonagall.

"You really do hear everything don't you?" McGonagall scoffed. "Besides, even without Lockhart, you have competition for that role so long as Sybil, Argus and Kettleburn are here."

"I'm touched," he rolled his eyes. "A have a class, I suggest if you two want to continue your conversation that you find your way elsewhere, he'll be looking for company."

"How did we become a group of children staging a lockout?" Sprout gave an exasperated sigh.

Severus made his way from the staffroom to the dungeons with twenty minutes to spare. The first class for first years were many professors' favourite part of the year, but he never liked it. A bunch of eleven-year-olds that knew nothing and seemed to have never been taught to behave. And none of them ever seemed apt to perform or even listen. The most memorable first class he taught had to be the Gryffindor/Slythern class from last year, and that wasn't exactly memorable for good reasons. Between his daughter's head slamming against her desk in shame, Potter's cheek and Longbottom trying to melt the damn floor, he could only hope no new idiots try to top that performance.

First year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs filed into desks chattering about this and that. At least they wouldn't be terribly hard to manage, this year saw a very small batch of first years, which meant the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class this year was a mere fourteen (he was normally looking at twenty or more) and his Gryffindor/Slytherin class would be even smaller at ten (less were sorted into those to houses so he normally averaged sixteen to twenty). The class was composed of nine Hufflepuffs, five boys and three girls, and five Ravenclaws with two girls and three boys. Of the lot, the only silent one was a small girl with dirty blond hair who doodled absent-mindedly in her note book.

"Settle down and pay attention," he called leaning against his desk.

Like that thirteen pairs of eyes turned to him and the incessant chatter gave way to silence. He turned his attention to the little blond doodler but noticed a dark-haired girl nudge her in the elbow and mutter "Luna!"

"Oh, sorry!" she said, not quietly, and faced forward with large silver eyes.

He combed through the register, there was one Luna, Miss Luna Lovegood. There didn't seem to be any intention on her part, the girl seemed simply absorbed in her task, something that reminded him quite a bit of Hermione. That hyperfocus was in part endearing and in part annoying, he just hoped she didn't make a habit of it during his lectures.

"If I can impress nothing else upon you today," he said. "You need to know how important it is to pay attention. The smallest of mistakes when working with potions can be catastrophic. In fact, just last year a boy your age failed to pay attention and melted the first layer of this floor, furniture, his lab partner's cauldron and very nearly caused severe injury to his classmates. Luckily, it didn't come to that."

At this information, some covered their mouths, others looked for evidence of the damage while some speculated to the boys identity in whispers.

"_Silence_!" he called.

The lot of them obliged turning their undivided attention to him. Even Lovegood sat upright at attention.

"I'll be deducting a point from Ravenclaw for Miss Lovegood's inattention to emphasise the point," he explained. "But now that we know the importance of attention, we can begin."

"Thanks, Luna!" the four other Ravenclaws grumbled.

He continued with the lecture and progressed into questions about the potion at hand, which to his legitimate surprise Lovegood answered correctly with little trouble when called upon. Something better than her cohorts. Typically these students were the Percy Weasleys of the world, know-it-alls beaming with pride,or they were like Hermione, murmuring the correct answering before a futile attempt to shrink away before they could be called out by their peers. Lovegood did neither of these, smiling with an easy answer and speaking in a soft voice. He rewarded her back the point she lost and was unsurprised that her peers felt no need to acknowledge what she gained rather than what she lost. Severus didn't like to reward students for what he expected of them, but he felt bad for the girl.

Severus paired the students alphabetically (as random lots served him so poorly last year) and saw the Ravenclaw boy he paired with Lovegood roll his eyes at the pairing. He was reminded of the over-accommodating Hermione nervously smiling as she scrambled to do everything herself, but this girl seemed unfazed by the hostility. _Does nothing bother you, girl?_

He wondered briefly if Hermione had accessed that level of not giving a damn would she still have felt compelled to follow Potter and Weasley to a grave of their own design. _The damage has already been done, comparing her to another child won't do a damn thing. _

"I see none of you managed to destroy my classroom," he said at the end of the practical period. "Let's hope for at least the same level of success next week. I want chapter two read before class. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor Snape," they chorused.

_That was surprisingly easy. I wonder if things are going as smoothly for Hermione..._

* * *

After the second time that day Harry had been asked for an aside from Lockhart, he entered the room, taking a desk between Ron and Hermione looking rather pink and furious. Ron declared that he could "cook an egg on his face" which only made him grow redder, and Hermione buried her nose in _Voyages with Vampires_ to hide her amusement. It wasn't fair, she knew it.

"He heard Malfoy's jape about 'signed photos' and wanted to talk to me," Harry grumbled. "I don't know which one I'm more angry with."

"Let's just hope that Ginny and Colin don't meet," Ron suggested. "I reckon they'd start a Harry Potter fanclub if they did."

Hermione looked up from her book to say something when she noticed the potted yellow flower on Lockhart's desk and buried her face in her book as she suppressed a giggle.

"That's the last thing Lockhart needs to hear, Ron!" Harry hissed. "Glad to see you're in good humour."

"It's not that, Harry," Hermione steadied her tone. "Look at his desk! It's a-"

"Great!" Ron groaned. "Bloody git has an admirer before the first day. Bloody brilliant!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a daffodil, Ron. It's s-"

"So?" Ron scoffed. "What's the type of flower have to do with anything?"

"It's scientific name is narcissus," Hermione explained at top speed and low volume. "It's an insult."

"I hate to tell you, Hermione," Ron said. "But sending someone flowers is never an insult. What, Snape tell you that after a boy gave you flowers in Japan?"

"Forget it!" Hermione rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh.

"Hello, everyone!" Lockhart greeted beaming to the class before noticing the flower. "I see I've gotten another token from an admirer over lunch! Oh, my! The burden of fame, children."

Lockhart bragged about the accomplishments disclosed in his books for what seemed like an eternity, peacocking around the room like he was the champion of the world while he paired each exploit with a useless titbit about himself. Bitterness swirled inside her and she felt very much like her father as her loathing for the man grew with each arrogant statement. How could she have been so starstruck when they first met? _No, no pay attention to class. Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him if he was no good. Anger is useless, and I refuse to feel it. He has flaws, okay, but listen..._

"Of course I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!" he concluded his ramble.

_You are _not _making this easy!_

"Pop quiz!" Lockhart grinned.

The entire class erupted into groans and cringed at the 54 question quiz as it was laid before them. All fifty-four questions consisted of questions about him! Not a single one had any baring on fighting the monsters in his books. Hermione actually missed Kaname and his surly manner, at least he taught them something useful! Hermione wasn't even sure if she were grateful or ashamed that she remembered the answers to all the questions. If anyone saw what Lockhart was quizzing them on..._Wait! I can circulate this! Thank you Mahoukatoro Mercury!_

"Oh my," Lockhart tutted. "It seems only Hermione remembered my favourite colour was lilac..."

Hermione promptly lowered her head to her desk at the mention of her name. Of course no one else bothered remembering something so trivial! Maybe she _should_ have asked to transfer to Japan.

"Oh my, is she asleep?" Lockhart asked.

"Hermione," Neville poked her arm with his quill.

"Oh, sorry!" she whispered rubbing her eyes and readjusting. _Maybe they'll talk less if I was "asleep" rather than embarrassed. _ Hermione poised herself for note taking.

Lockhart rambled once again about his various escapades across the globe with dark wizards and creatures and how it was his duty to prepare them for such horrors. He concluded his little monologue by gesturing to their lesson of the day, a rumbling cage covered with a black blanket.

"I must ask you not to scream!" he flashed an arrogant smile before dramatically throwing the blanket off the cage.

The class erupted not into screams, but into laughter. The cage was filled with writhing, thin blue bodies, looking very agitated and very hungry. They were attempting to fly but crashed into each other due to the lack of space. Hermione wondered if Lockhart cared that the Cornish pixies didn't have enough room to fly in the birdcage.

"Are those _pixies?!_" Seamus howled in laughter.

"Cornish pixies to be exact, young man!" he beamed. "But don't be fooled by their small stature! These are viscous creatures that will happily attack any who wonder into their territory!"

Neville gulped, but the rest of the class exchanged sceptical looks.

"I'm about to release them, but not to worry!" he called. "As long as I am here no harm shall come to you!"

With that he released the agitated pixies, and like a shaken nest of hornets, they took to the air with malicious intent. A blue cloud filled rose like a plume before they separated into quadrants to wreak maximum havoc. That's when the screaming did start. Hermione froze in spot watching them terrorize her classmates, one flew into her hair, getting caught in the curly tangles, which still failed to prompt her to action as she felt the frantic tugging on her scalp until Harry whacked it with a book, the visceral thud waking Hermione in time to see a flock finishing hanging Neville by his robes on the candleabra.

"Everything is under control, children!" Lockhart yelled before muttering a string of nonsense words and waving his wand to no effect.

_Shit! _"Immobilus!" Hermione cried pointing at the flock descending upon Ron.

"Thanks!" he gasped looking at the dropped pixies.

"No problem," she gasped before attacking a group of four pixies terrorizing Lavender and Parvarti.

All who could promptly left the room while Harry, Ron and Hermione took to immobilizing groups of pixies before throwing them back in the extremely crammed cage.

"You three seem to have a handle on this!" Lockhart gave a nervous chuckled. "I'll leave you to it!"

"You're not going to help us?!" Ron yelled immobilizing a trio near Neville.

"You three are more than capable. The only ones who did the assigned work. Cheerio!" and he ducked out.

Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the better part of a half-hour clearing the classroom. Once they had addressed the pixies, they turned their thoughts to Neville, Harry, Ron and Hermione all levitating him to slowly set him down. Hermione swiped her quiz from Lockhart's desk after setting the cage on it before the four of them left the room.

"Fucking git!" Ron seethed through gritted teeth. "I can't believe he'd do that!"

"We'd better not be late for potions because of him," Harry grumbled. "Snape'll have our skin!"

"I can't believe that man!" Hermione joined in the protests. "Cramming those pixies into such a small space, not even feeding them properly! No wonder they acted out!"

"Mistreating the pixies?! That's your concern?!" Ron scoffed. "What about us! _We_ could have been hurt!"

Hermione looked down at her feet and dug her nails into her hand. Neville _was _hurt, not badly, but she should have cared more about that. "Are you okay, Neville?"

He nodded.

"I'm just, erm," Hermione bit her lip. "Look, he _knows _better! He's done so many things and-"

"He's _said_ he's done so many things," Ron grumbled.

"You think he's a fraud?" Harry asked the other three.

"The thought's crossed my mind," Hermione admitted

* * *

"Is it true?" Severus asked after the other students filed out of the classroom.

Hermione adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder, looking rather exhausted and frazzled. The minor scratches on her cheeks and hands, shared by Potter, Weasley and Longbottom told him that what Finnegan and Thomas said regarding their lateness had been true. She sighed and shrugged. "Yessir, but it's-it's fine."

"It would seem you and I have _very_ different definitions of the word 'fine'," he placed a hand on her head. "You should have fled with the rest of that lot. What, twenty of you and not one of you thought to leave and get help?"

"Erm..."Hermione shrugged again before turning her gaze to the ground. "I guess not, sir. We just wanted to make sure we could get Neville down without the pixies eating his face. Though I mean, erm, it's not like there was anything that could be done about it."

He mused for a moment, she was right. Dumbledore _knowingly_ had a teacher who was trying to kill a student on staff and did nothing. Wilful neglect with dangerous creatures would earn him nothing. Especially given the perception of pixies held by most.

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, he's probably going to spin it as trying to give us 'hands-on experience'. It's an easy enough claim, and whether or not people believe him, they'll be satisfied enough to drop it."

_You have no idea how right you are...We've all willing chose not to launch formal investigations for much more serious offences._ "Twelve and already so jaded," he sighed. "Given his abysmal handling of class today I'm going to have to go back on my decision not to instruct you on the subject myself."

"But-" Hermione started.

"But nothing, Hermione," he said. "You're not missing out on a whole year because-" _the headmaster has it in his head it's possible to teach Potter modesty with that self-important git?_ "He was the only one who replied to the open-call."

"Really?" Hermione asked narrowing her eyes.

_Why are you such a suspicious child? _"If I was going to lie to you about something so small," he folded his arms over his chest. "Do you not think I would come up with something that would put an end to your objections?"

Hermione bit her lip and her eyes drifted to a far corner of the room. She didn't seem entirely convinced, and was now deep in thought. He'd raised her not to trust others, he shouldn't have been surprised when it backfired on him. And he had to admit, despite efforts to make amends, the previous year's events would still be forefront in her memory.

"The reason he was selected doesn't matter," he said. "The fact of the matter is that he doesn't seem to have the ability to teach you, and _my daughter_ isn't going to be a whole damn year behind in one of the most important subjects," he turned back and opened his planbook. "Let's see, you're doing the readings, and we'll have to work around your detentions...you're a fast enough learner...yes, once a week should suffice." His eyes scanned the page looking for the best day. She'd hate him, but it'd have to be Saturdays.

"Would that not give me an unfair advantage over the other students?" Hermione asked.

"No, love," he sighed. "It gives the other students an unfair disadvantage. The students taking their OWLs and NEWTs this year have my utmost sympathy. However, my concern is _you_ and I am in a position to do something about it. So I expect to see you Saturday mornings starting this week."

"Yessir," she said.

"Don't sound so enthused," he rolled his eyes before shutting the book. "Now, for the matter of your detentions. You may think it hardly seems fair that Potter and Weasley broke the law and only received a single detention and you face a whole month of them for simply aiding their entrance into the castle. But if you learn nothing else from me, little girl, remember this; Life's not fair. You will never receive the same level of leniency as Potter outside of this school. The sooner you can wrap your little head around that, the better."

"Yessir," Hermione nodded.

"We'll start tonight at eight. You'll be at my office then and not a second later. Understood?"

"Yessir," she nodded again.

"Very well, you may leave."

Hermione didn't need to be told twice, she barely wasted time in saying goodbye before rushing from the room at the fastest she could move while still pretending she was just walking. Probably off to make the most of the three and a half hours she had left. If the gag with the flower had amused her at all, it didn't exactly buy him good faith. _Trying to bond with your daughter through making fun of a colleague? I still have no clue what I'm doing!  
_


	20. B2:Ch4: Hogwats Herald

"How do you guys feel about Lockhart?" Hermione asked Fred and George over lunch.

"He's a bloody git!" George said.

"A looker though," Fred admitted. "Bet that's all he has going for him."

"Did you know," Lee asked in a low voice. "Friday he had us stuck in a lecture about how important appearance was?"

"Seemed to think we all needed to know how he tends to his hair!" George groaned.

"That'll come in handy if we come across a dark wizard!" Fred laughed. "I can't shield myself from your spell, Mr. Dark Wizard, sir, but I can tell you how to achieve the perfect curl!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione howled in laughter. Hermione could definitely picture it, and what she got from Pansy about their first class was not too different. It seemed Lockhart's performance was not unique to them, and he did often quiz all of his students on the subject matter of his books, himself! Hermione only needed testimony from a first year, and she wanted to talk to Colin anyway.

The first week had passed and Hermione never wanted to write _I will not aid and abet criminals regardless of their reasoning, _again. Her father had her write it one-hundred times every night last week. She wondered if what she was planning would land her another month of detentions...

"I see," she said scribbling it down in a mix of Japanese and Elvish. "Do you think-"

"What's with the sudden interest in Lockhart?" Ron asked. "I thought you were still angry at him about the pixies?"

"Of course I'm still upset about the pixies," she said. "Hagrid told me they were underfed, and the lack of space in the caused them to attack each-"

"Mad pixies would attack anything in their way including themselves," Ron groaned.

"Some of them even had sepsis, Ron! They've been treated, but three of the pixies died."

"Really?" Harry choked. "But-that's-that's horrible."

"Relax, mate," Ron said. "It's bad, but they're not intelligent like humans. They look human, but they're comparable to cats and dogs."

"And if that fucking idiot's neglect-!"Hermione hissed.

"Merlin, Hermione, that git's not worth frothing at the mouth," Ron scoffed. "You _do_ know who you sound like, don't you?"

"I give up!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll meet you in class. I'm going to the library."

"Hermione," Harry said. "What are you planning?"

"Whatever it is," Fred said throwing an arm around her.

"We're in!" George grinned.

"I'm planning on reading some very old documents," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh, there's a shocker," Ron grumbled.

She leaned into Fred ear and whispered. "I'll keep you two posted. Just pretend I said something else. Harry and Ron can't afford any more trouble."

"You're right, Hermione," he shrugged. "Ron is a right git."

_What the actual hell?!_ "That's not what I meant!" Hermione hissed.

"Fred!" Ron gaped. "Merlin, Hermione, if you have a problem you could have told me!"

"You'd have to let her finish a sentence for her to do that," Fred said.

Hermione glared at Fred.

"If looks could kill, mate," Lee chuckled.

"_Shit!" _ Hermione slapped her forehead and lowered her voice to a whisper. "We have potions next. He's probably got his eye on us, on the count of three we all burst out into laughter and I leave. I'm _not_ adding to his reasons to antagonize you lot."

* * *

"I still can't believe you'll have to do whatever McGonagall's detention on top of Snape's detentions," Ron groaned over his History of Magic essay. "Hardly seems fair."

"Life's not fair," Hermione rolled her eyes before skimming his essay. "You might want to acknowledge the grain mould causing paranoia across Europe. It tells a more complete story."

"Professor Binns won't care about some mold," Ron groaned.

"Mass hysteria caused by mould? I think most historians-" Hermione shrugged.

"Know-it-all," he grumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes and dried the ink on her own essay. "I have an hour to hit the library before my detention. I'll look at your work after."

"Sure," Harry nodded. "Thanks, Hermione."

"You want to look at the archives again?" Pince mused. "Awfully thorough for your second week, aren't we?"

"Professor Binns assigned us a paper on the English witch trials during the last half of the middle ages and I want to investigate the paranoia among our own. You know, the mouldy-rhye theory?"

"Very well," Pince sighed. "You know the deal."

"One page out of place when I'm done and you'll have me crucified!" she sang.

"Good girl," she smiled.

_Not a fucking dog!_ "Thank you," she nodded.

Hermione wished the papers kept in the archives weren't solely the _Prophet_. It essentially made it impossible for Hermione to investigate the events in his books. At least not the ones on the continent, and the British news paper gave little space to the Irish city in Cork being terrorized by the Bandon Banshee. All she got was that Aurors would divert attention to Bandon after the apprehension of suspected Death Eaters. The follow-up was nearly half a year later.

_Silence At Last in Bandon, Co. Cork:_

_Famed wizard and hunter of dark creatures, Gilderoy Lockhart, 30, has single-handedly brought peace back to Bandon Co. Cork after a year. The trouble started in August 1987 when a couple of muggles hiking found a dead body bleeding from the ears. Muggle Autopsies of the first victim (minor, name will not be released) and subsequent victims were inconclusive._

_ Irish Aurors, already using most of their forces to tracking and apprehending Death Eaters, or other wise occupied by unrest in the North sent two to investigate. Angela Manning, 43, and Cirian MacLear, 28, reported back that the bodies of muggles and wizards alike showed evidence of a Banshee cry. With that knowledge they pursued the creature themselves. Reports go dark after December 1987. The were found dead after the new year._

_In March 1988, Mrs. Mary Hannigan, 77, an independent hunter, checked in to Roger Murphy's, 49, inn, the Bruidne. Not much is known of the woman's stay, but that she spent months investigating the travels of the Banshee. In April, Lockhart booked a room in the same inn saying he would like to launch his own investigation, to the cries of relief from the Bruidne's patrons! _

_On May 19 1988 Lockhart entered the Bruidne announcing to a nervous crowd that at last the Bandon Banshee had been dealt with!  
_

_"It was a great ordeal," Lockhart tells _Magical Cork Times, _(Permissions were granted!). "Facing certain death! But I knew that Banshee would not get the best of Gilderoy Lockhart. It's just a shame that that poor old woman had been so traumatised that she lost her memory. Some of us, I'm afraid are just not cut out for the hunter business. That old witch got old and sloppy if you ask me!"_

_When asked how he handled the Banshee, Lockhart withheld comment stating: "Well, if you want details, you'll have to read it in my next book!"_

_This reporter is simply dying to learn the stunning wizard's tricks. Be on the look out for _Break with a Banshee _on the shelves of your local bookshop this coming Winter!  
_

_He doesn't sound sad at all about Hannagan, _Hermione thought after filing the article back in its place. She had less than fifteen minutes to make her way to her father's office and no excuse to be late. She had what she needed for now. She would see if she could follow Hannagan as a lead, but doubted she could. It just didn't sit right with her.

* * *

Hermione touched absently tapped the chalk against her lip, she looked at her calculations on her slate, though Severus could tell her mind was far from what she had written on it.

"Hermione?" he waved his hand in front of her eyes.

"Oh!" Hermione stiffened and brought her attention back to the present. "Sorry, sir. Erm, if I'm right-"

Hermione rattled off a few typically used items in the Student's Supply Cupboard, stating the percentages already used and when she expected each to run out at the current rate of use. Given it was only the second week, it was busy work, with no real meaning, but everything else would be as well, and he never liked the idea of leaving her with Filch.

"Very well," he said recording it into his log. "Though I wonder where you were just a moment ago, because it certainly wasn't here."

"Oh, erm," she bit her lip, scanning the slate once more. "I think I messed up on the-"

He leaned over her shoulder to examine the slate himself, resting a hand on her shoulder. "No, it all looks fine. Now, tell me what you're up to."

Hermione set her slate down after a sigh, and probably an eyeroll, before establishing eye-contact with him. "Why am I always up to something?"

"That's a very good question, love," he said. "And one I'd also like an answer one of these days."

Hermione paused for a moment, her eyes scanning the room before returning to him. She was carefully evaluating the situation, he imagined searching for the most effective words. Unless she was in one of her little moods, or was otherwise pushed by either her conversation partner or circumstances, she did this with everyone. He knew why, he'd really _fucked _up with her last year, but it did disappoint him that she felt the need to be so on guard with him as well.

"Erm, I guess," she started. "Erm, did the anyone ever figure out what happened to barrier?"

_Of course you're still on that,_ though he had thought her fixation would still be on whatever retribution she might seek on behalf of the damn pixies. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or concerned that it was this instead. Between her homework, lessons, and detentions as well as her enquiring after the pixies he half expected her to forget the boys' claim. He hadn't managed to figure it out either, though he, Dumbledore and McGonagall dropped the investigation after a day, determining it to be a prank, probably a house-elf. He could definitely see Draco Malfoy ordering his elf to do so to prevent Potter from returning school, but with the boys at school and the damage done, he saw nothing more to do.

"A poorly planned prank," he said. "Unsure who the responsible party is, but at this stage we'd be unable to prove anything."

Hermione mused for a moment. "Wouldn't have to be someone over seventeen? Or maybe someone-"

"Hermione Elizabeth, _drop it!_"

"Yessir," Hermione bowed her head. "Sorry!"

Why was she volunteering that she was looking into it? Maybe this meant she trusted him, but he didn't feel right about it. He had pleaded with her to come to him, perhaps that was all, but would she volunteer information that she thought they'd overlooked? It didn't matter, he didn't see Death Eaters blocking the barrier, with the enchantment on the Dursleys' home, it would actually be easier to get Potter at the school, and no one tried to lure the boys away at the station. Though Hermione uncovering a plot from Malfoy would put him in a very awkward position. He had to pretend to still be in good standing with Lucius Malfoy, expelling his son, or any disciplining of the boy would put that at risk.

"I'm serious," he said. "The damage is done, whatever you unearth will be about as helpful to those boys as a blast-ended skrewt."

"Yessir," she nodded again.

Hermione returned to her task with new focus and fell silent. She made quick work of the rest of the students' public use cupboard giving him her calculations and responding to him when addressed. He'd had her until ten but she finished at nine, both a product of him teaching her how to complete the task at a young age and her natural aptitude with statistics. He thought back to Hermione teaching the Weasley twins to count cards when she was nine. He hoped she'd find a constructive use for that talent when she grew.

"Tell me, Hermione," he said as Hermione was getting ready to leave. "Was it worth it?"

"Sorry?" she hesitated.

"A month lost for your efforts," he said. "And all for a pair of boys who, from what I can tell, won't even let you finish a sentence. Was it worth it?"

"No, sir," she sighed looking at her feet. "Like you said, it didn't exactly accomplish anything, did it?"

"I was hoping your evaluation of the situation would go beyond that," he said. "They clearly don't appreciate anything you've done, nor does it seem like, from what I can tell, that they respect you. Yet you follow them around like an indentured ser-" _Fuck, of course! That has to be it._ "I understand a life debt more than most," he admitted. "So if this is all about the fiasco at Hallowe'en, trust me, love, you've already paid it back multiple times over."

Hermione clasped her hands together and bit her lip. To his surprise, she tore her gaze from her feet and spoke. "You don't see _everything_. They aren't always the way they were on the handful of high-stress situations you walked in on. You said you didn't want to hear me defend those two, so I won't. But I am _begging_ you, Dad, _please_ stop trying to convince me that they're evil incarnate?"

Evil incarnate? Having seen, and even committed, _real_ evils, he never accused them of such. Hermione's eyes grew in size imploring him, but there was also an exasperated frustration that he imagined she would never admit to. He couldn't help but wonder if she had had similar conversations with Potter and Weasley. Severus could admit to his biases, but he sure as hell didn't imagine the way they spoke to her. Wanting to open her eyes to it was no crime. But he supposed she had to make her own mistakes...an idea he was not fond of. That was before considering the more dire consequences of their friendship should Voldemort return to full power...He'd just have to intervene if it ever came to that.

"Very well," he said. "I'll hold my tongue. I won't even say 'I told you so' when it all falls apart."

* * *

Hermione returned to the common room to find Harry and Ron sitting and chatting over a table with their homework spread over it. She sat between the two of them, and looked over their essays, before musing at some of their phrases and information. "They're both decent, but-" she erased bits of Ron's paper and reordered some words while adding extra points to bolster his thesis. "There you go, Ron."

"Thanks," he read the parchment over. "What're the chances you can do my grades for when I go home?"

"Only slightly lower than me trying out for the quidditch team next year," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"But you hate-oh!" Ron rolled his own eyes. "What if I said 'please?'"

"That'd be a first, wouldn't it?" Hermione lifted her wand to erase bits of Harry's.

"Ouch!" Harry laughed. "I'll take whatever grade Binns will give me if there aren't any big issues."

"You sure?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Reckon we don't have any life or death matters on the line, so we can do our own homework. Thanks for looking over it though."

"Oh, okay," Hermione nodded with a smile. Was she relieved or sad? Did she outlive her usefulness? _These are your friends, stop thinking like that. Why do you do this to yourself, stupid piece of shit?! _

The three engaged in idle chatter until Hermione found Fred, George and Lee creeping back into the common room, Lee and George carrying a mountain of sweets and Fred tucking a folded bit of parchment into his robes.

"That was bold," Hermione scoffed. "If Percy were awake-"

"Which he isn't!" George beamed. "You three interested in the spoils?"

"I don't do dairy or gelatin," Hermione shrugged. "Which I suppose means I'm immune to your charms."

"_I'm _not a monk," Harry laughed. "I'll take some if you're offering, thanks."

"Me too!" Ron agreed. "We'll still take whatever Hermione's share was going to be."

Hermione rolled her eyes before rising. "Any chance I can talk to you two in private?"

Fred and George exchanged a look before nodding.

"I'll guard the hoard if you two want to show her to our office," Lee nodded sitting with Harry and Ron.

Their 'office' was the broom cupboard between the stairs to the girls' and boys' dormitories. Hermione felt suddenly grateful that she had her breakdown in a different cupboard last year. She lit her wand after casting muflfliatio and sat across from them, nestled between a shelf and a bucket while the twins sat along the empty wall.

"What are the chances of me getting you two to use your powers for the side of good?"

The two exchanged a look before George mused, his eyes to the ceiling. "Describe 'side of good'?"

Hermione took her note book out of her bag and opened to the page where she wrote about Hannagan and tried to organize her thoughts. "I want to out Lockhart."

"_Out _him?" Fred coughed.

"What do you mean by out him?" George asked.

Hermione told them about her quiz, the disaster of class, the suspicion, she, Harry and Ron shared and about her recent discovery of Hanagan. "I want to try and follow the Hannagan lead before I compile the story. After that, that's when you come in. Can I get you two to circulate the leaflets? I grew up here, but you two have a much better grasp of the school. I think you could get them in the staff room, the Great Hall and Laundry room without being caught better than I could." then she bit her lip and added. "But you don't have to!"

Fred and George nodded to each other with decidedly mischievous grins. "We're in!"

"Thank you!" Hermione tried to prevent herself from squealing. "This will mean everything. I'll let you know when I've got the leaflets printed. So, just _how _do you get around the school so smoothly?"

Fred and George exchanged yet another knowing look before sniggering at each other. Hermione bowed her head and assumed they'd tell her when they saw fit. Or she could simply follow them around to be wise to their tricks. Though she had a feeling that if they were so proficient at shaking Filch, they would be with her as well.

"Tell me, Hermione," Fred began.

"Do you solemnly swear you're up to no good?" George finished.

Hermione blinked considering whatever code they were using. She mused pensively for a bit before crossing her heart and holding out her pinky _God, I'm such a child!_ "Yes," she said in a sombre tone.

"So innocent," George sighed.

"Maybe we'll tell you when you're older," Fred said pinching her cheek.

"_This _is exactly why Ginny doesn't talk to you!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"She doesn't really talk to anyone," George mused. "Does she?"

Fred and Hermione joined in the musing. Fred spoke "I suppose not," in a more serious voice than before. Hermione launched into reasons she might not. It was Ginny's first year, she might not want to be tied to her big brothers, but Ron had no such issues...she only wanted to tease the twins, but now she worried she uncovered something more serious. There were only six new Gryffindors this year, four boys and two girls, and Ginny barely spoke to any of them, Hermione sympathised with that, remembering that she too was excluded from a lot of social interactions for the first month. But she took the olive branch extended by Fred and George and Ginny did not.

Ginny didn't have the barriers Hermione did, her family didn't make her a pariah (unless you were a Slytherin) and she wasn't ugly, yet she sat bent over her work in the common room staring at Harry and them and only speaking when spoken to. Hermione vowed to extend her the same kindness that Fred, George and Lee extended to her when this was over.

Hermione opened the cupboard door to leave to a voice squeaking "ow!" and Hermione rushed around the door to see Ginny staring up at her, Fred and George with wide eyes. She clutched her pink dressing gown around her and took Hermione's hand to help her up.

"Oh, god, Ginny," she squeaked. "I am so, so sorry, are you okay?"

Ginny nodded, her blue eyes still wide and her freckles flushed the same colour as her dressing gown as she looked past her. "I was, erm, just-"

"What in the _blazes,_ you four?" a voice asked.

Hermione spun around to find a very irritated Percy, blue eyes blazing beneath his horned-rimmed glasses and his badge affixed to his blue dressing gown.

"First I find Harry, Ron and Lee out of bed after hours with scarped sweets, then I find Ginny wandering about and you three _in a cupboard._"

"You sound like Mum," George scoffed.

"Why are _you _wandering about, oh great one?" Fred hissed.

"I am a prefect," he said. "And was using the common toilet," he admitted after.

"We're very sorry we were out of bed," Hermione gave a nervous laugh. "We'll fix that right away."

Ginny nodded and the two took off to the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

"Erm, Ginny," Hermione asked in a whisper. "Were you looking for any one of us?"

Ginny shook her head. "Don't tell anyone, but I like to write in my diary in the same cupboard. What were _you_ doing?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked down at her feet. Should she tell Ginny that she was looking to put an end to Lockhart's career? What if she told? But what was she assuming? Was it possibly worse? Hermione was only twelve, so surely she didn't think..."I, erm, wanted their advice on a decision I have to make, but I didn't want anyone overhearing us."

"I know I'm younger," Ginny said. "But I _live_ with those two, so let me give _you_ some advice. Don't take advice from Fred and George...or Percy, and definitely not Ron."

"Note taken," Hermione laughed. "Thanks. Tit for tat, so I'll let you know that when I write in my diary, I do it under the covers once everyone's asleep." Hermione took out her wand. "Do as I do, lumos!"

Ginny mimicked her wand movements and repeated her to the same effect. "Thanks!"

"Let me know if you want me to teach you written Japanese, then you don't have to worry about snoops."

"I don't know if that would work," Ginny mused.

"What do you mean?"

"Erm, nothing!" Ginny laughed. "Thanks for everything, Hermione, g'night!"

Did she think she couldn't learn the language? Hermione had pushed Ginny and her mysterious diary habits out of her head as she turned her thoughts to her cover story for Harry and Ron. She imagined Fred and George would let Lee in on it, and Hermione had others she wanted to rope in. This would be difficult to navigate. She had drifted off to sleep without settling on any course of action.

* * *

"We have an hour before classes," Hermione shrugged peeling an oversized orange. "I'm heading to the archives."

"You spent all last year forbidden from the outdoors and you're voluntarily missing out on the last of the decent weather?" Ron scoffed. "I don't understand you."

"It's a project I'm working on."

"The one you needed help from Fred and George on?" Harry teased. "I reckon we've outlived our usefulness, Ron."

"Oh, haha," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I promise its worth the effort."

"You planning on telling us this century?" Ron scoffed again.

"You'll know if it works out," Hermione shrugged. "You two can't afford to get into any more trouble."

"Hark who's talking," Harry rolled his eyes. "We only have one detention. You're toiling away every day but Sunday. What's left if you get into any more trouble?"

"October, November, December, January, F-"

"Never mind," Harry sighed.

Hermione went down to the library to find a very angry Pince fuming behind the desk as she combed over a long peice of parchment. Her face nearly flushed the colour of Ron's hair, and Hermione regretted her decision. She was about to turn back when Pince's brown eyes seared into her very soul.

"Morning, Madam Pince," Hermione hesitated. "Is everything alright?"

"_You_!" she hissed beckoning her over with a hooked finger.

Hermione obliged feeling her heart beat in her ears. Pince had never been mad at _her _before and Hermione didn't like it. She should have been used to grown-ups being upset with her, and she had ample experience both with the vein-popping, destructive yelling anger and the cold calculating seething anger. So why did her heart still pound or her stomach still knot up?

"You're friends with the Weasley twins, correct?" she hissed.

"Yes, why?" she asked. _Don't back away, you did nothing wrong._

"Did they do this?!"

"Did they do what?" Hermione squeaked.

"Go, find a book, I don't care which one."

Hermione went to the nearest shelf and figured out what the hell she had been talking about. Someone re-organized the whole library, or at least, all the shelves she had ventured to. Not a single book was in place. It would take Madam Pince hours to set things right. No wonder she was so out of sorts. And she wasn't the only one. Hermione _grew up_ in the library, she knew every nook and cranny, where every book was placed. She knew every title, every subject and author or compiler in the main library, and she never felt more certain, more in control than when she was in the library. But now, there was no rhyme or reason, everything completely spun out of control. Nothing was untouched, she felt, somehow, violated by the simple reorganization of the library. Something so consistent, the only consistency was gone.

_This is pathetic,_ she told herself. _It's just a harmless prank, and I've been through so much worse. Stupid piece of shit._

"When did this _happen?_" Hermione squeaked after returning to the desk.

"Last night. I woke up, had breakfast and came here to see _this_. Oh, my poor library!" Pince wailed.

"It can't have been Fred and George!" Hermione sighed in relief. "I was with them last night!"

"Any better alibis?" Pince spat.

"You don't trust me?" Hermione looked up at her, using her sweetest voice and blinking innocently. _You and the twins did nothing wrong, this might not work._

"Prove I should," she said.

"Lee Jordan, Harry Potter, Ron, Ginny and Percy Weasley can all corroborate. And you _know _Percy wouldn't vouch for their innocence unless it was true!"

Pince mused a bit in silence. She didn't handle students as often as the professors, but everyone knew Percy's MO. She let out a drawn out sigh and waved a hand. "I will find the culprit This will take days! They got to the archives too!"

"The archives?!" Hermione choked. "But that-that's-"

"Depraved!" she seethed. "If I get my hands on the little monsters who did this-"

"I can fix it!" Hermione volunteered. "I spent so much of my childhood hiding out in here, I probably know it better than the back of my hand."

"You're committing to days of work. I'll take it. "

Hermione mused for a moment, between her detentions, Saturday classes, normal work and the take-down on Lockhart, she hadn't much time. However, hadn't McGonagall failed to arrange Harry, Ron and her detention? She could fix the library, save time and get Harry and Ron out of Filch's clutches all with one suggestion. "Talk to the professors, Madam Pince. Ask that they refer all detentions to you until this is fixed. Many hands make light work."

Pince pursed her lips pensively before nodded. "That's a good suggestion. I'll speak to them all at lunch."

* * *

"Pay attention, Miss Lovegood," Severus said.

"Oh," the girl shifted her attention. "Just lost in thought, the energy from the mugswort is very off."

The class burst into laughter at Lovegood's assertion and he went from admiring the girl's lack of concern for her classmates' opinions to wishing she cared just enough not to interrupt his class with wild conspiracies.

_This girl is completely detached from reality! _"Anyone still laughing in the next three seconds will be joining Miss Lovegood Saturday evening in detention!"

That shut the lot of them up. There weren't even derisive "Thanks, Luna"s muttered when he deducted five points for the girls' behaviour. This had to be the easiest class to regain control of, but Lovegood, though not intentionally, was a welcomed distraction to the others, they could rely on her to say something entertaining each class. That was responsible for his constant wavering from sympathy to annoyance. A sentiment he held for a larger number of students than he cared to admit.

The day did not improve in the least as he climbed the stairs to the main floor to the sound of boys swearing at each other and was faced with two of his own students. Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team and Damien O'Malley, a fourth year boy who typically kept to himself after a disastrous first year that nearly earned his expulsion. Though O'Malley was still too easily baited into conflict. He knew by that, and the fact that Flint was two years older and much more built that the gangly red-haired boy, that Flint had to have started it. Though Flint's parents were among those he placated, and O'Malley was being raised by his muggle father after his mother, who did not come from a prominent family, died. And ignoring it with the number of on-lookers wouldn't end well either.

_O'Malley, that temper will be the end of you, _"Would either of you boys mind telling me what happened here?"

Two accounts came at him in two fast and loud streams of excuses and finger pointing. At least from what he could make out from the noise. He thought of trying to get their accounts in his office one at a time, but he already knew what options were available to him and he wasn't going to drag it out. "Detention, O'Malley. Library at eight Saturday night."

"But he-" O'Malley shook his head thinking twice before nodded. "Yessir."

"So you _can_ censor yourself," Severus remarked. "I would advise you to use that skill more often."

"Yessir," he grumbled.

He ignored Flint's shit-eating grin and made his way to his patrol on the grounds. If he was lucky he wouldn't come across as though he were trying to set a record for detentions given in under an hour. Though Pince would be happy at least.

However when he got to the yard he found Hermione sitting with a first year boy, Creevy, her hands clasped as she looked at him imploringly. The boy was a year younger, and perhaps a couple inches shorter. He wondered what possible sway the boy had to have her plead with him. He looked around the yard and skulked behind another tree.

"You, erm," she sighed. "I don't want you to feel like you have to, but it would simply mean the world to me."

"Erm," the boy fiddled with his camera. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course," she nodded. "Thanks for considering it." She combed over his open book and parchment. "Charms? You're going to want to cross that one out and write-"

Hermione ran through the boy's homework explaining where and why he was wrong, and Creevy corrected his work in a flurry.

"You are a life saver," Creevy beamed. "I completely forgot to do it until now and could barely wrap my head around it all."

"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "It's important to give yourself time to digest what you're reading before tackling homework. Looks good now though."

"Thanks," he smiled.

"Anytime, Colin," she smiled back.

"Hermione!" Longbottom's figure appeared from the distance. He collapsed before her quite pink and out of breath.

"Shit!" Hermione grabbed her wand. "What happened?"

"Oh, no," Longbottom caught his breath. "Nothing like that, erm, sorry!"

"You had me worried is all," she shrugged tucking her wand back into her robes. "Thought Malfoy and his goons ganged up on you again."

"Oh, sorry," Longbottom stared at his feet. "I-erm-you said you'd help me with-"

"Shit!" Hermione slapped her forehead. "I'm so, so fucking sorry! I can't believe I forgot! Do you have it with you?"

Hermione grabbed her ink and quill sitting back down in the grass as Longbottom sat beside her.

"Thanks," Longbottom said sheepishly.

Hermione combed over his work explaining the difference between spirits and ghosts. Longbottom's face flushed a deeper pink. She tried again, the boy whimpered and Hermione took his work and started directly marking on the page. Her handling of Creevy skirted the line, but this was explicitly cheating.

"Erm, sorry," Longbottom nodded.

"It's fine," she shrugged with a smile. "DADA's a joke anyway."

_It is most certainly not fine! _"Last minute homework?" he asked casually walking out from behind the tree.

Creevy looked to Hermione and Longbottom, perhaps to gauge what he should make of the interaction. Longbottom shifted closer to Hermione, Creevy did the same a moment later.

"I fell asleep while doing it last night," Hermione lied.

_Leveraging favours, cheating and lying! what the hell happened to my little girl? _"Why do I have trouble believing that? Must be-"

The bell rang signalling the end of break and return to class.

"To the chase then," he said. "I _saw _you take the homework from Longbottom. Cheating is punishable by _expulsion_."

The three exchanged nervous glances and Hermione shrank against the tree as if she could disappear into the shadows.

"Right," he said. "That'll be fifty points from Gryffindor and you boys have detention, eight o'clock Saturday at the library. Get to your classes if you can find your way without her."

They did so without a glance Hermione's direction. Hermione was left alone before him, staring at her feet and digging her nails into the back of her hand. What the hell was he supposed to do with her? She should have, and did know better. He couldn't see her as a hapless victim, she had agency and she decided to sneak Potter and Weasley in, to leverage a favour out of Creevy and cheat on Longbottom's behalf. _I thought Malfoy and his goons ganged up on you! _She was ready to do more than cheat on that boy's behalf. It seemed all he had to do was give a distressed whimper and Hermione leapt to the rescue.

"You have no clue how lucky you are that I'm the one that caught you," he seethed. "Have you any idea how serious this is? How reckless that was?"

Hermione didn't move or speak.

He had to hand it to her, he could go on about how reckless and stupid she was, but if he had not been _spying_ on her, it would have looked like she was simply doing her own homework before class. Which made him wonder how many assignments she forged for her little friends before now. And whatever Hermione wanted from Creevy still bothered him. He had an hour before his next class to attempt to pry it out of her, but he'd gauge her answers to the more serious offences first.

"_Tell me_ you weren't about to attack Draco Malfoy and 'his goons' (he used air quotes) because Longbottom came crying to you?"

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "Neville normally comes to me for countercurses after he's been attacked. I don't f-erm-I try to avoid direct interactions with Malfoy and his lot when possible."

"I see," he said. "At least I don't have to worry about that. The cheating. I'm going to assume this is the first time you did this. And it is the _last_ time you do it. Am I understood?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

"And you'll start your detentions for the rest of the month at seven instead of eight."

"Yessir," she nodded again.

"Might I ask what you were begging Creevy for?"

Hermione bit her lip and wrung her hands together before digging her nails into them once more. "I wanted, erm, you see, I-"

"Just tell me you're not going to do anything stupid."

"No, sir," she said.

"Very well," he sighed. "Get to your 'joke' class and if you are lying, remember that I hear _everything. _Am I understood, little girl?"

"Yessir."

* * *

Saturday morning came and Hermione woke exceptionally early to do homework in the empty common room before she had to leave for her second extra DADA lesson. That did not go according to plan, Hermione came down to find the whole quidditch team sans-Harry rushing around to get ready, already in their quidditch robes.

"Hi, Hermione," Ron greeted her. "Coming down to see the quidditch practice too?"

"I have two hours before I'm expected for extra lessons," she grumbled. "_My daughter isn't missing out on a whole year on one of the most important subjects," _she mimicked her father. "Ask your mum to apply next year," she said. "I need someone else to understand this."

"No way," Ron said. "I can imagine it now, '_Ronald Billius Weasley, how dare you skive off classes? Are you even listening? An 'A', that is unacceptable!" _

"It'd put an end to our career too," Fred said from behind her.

"And you _know_ she'd keep baby pictures of all of us on her desk!" George agreed.

A very tired Harry in dishevelled quidditch robes appeared at the end of the stairs, his untidy black hair even worse than usual. "7am practice. Still willing to notarize my will, Hermione?"

"Only if I get to write an embarrassing obituary," she said.

"Do that and I'll haunt you," Harry said.

"I think in the event of being haunted I'd certainly be spending a lot of time with my father for advice or comfort," she mused.

"You win," Harry sighed.

"Let's get down to the pitch, team, now!" Oliver called.

The nine of them made their way down to the training yard, and Hermione figured she could spare an hour to hang out with Ron and watch the lot of them practice. She didn't much care for quidditch, but it mattered to them, so she could endure an hour. Plus practice didn't involve crowds. _A Gryffindor afraid of heights and crowds that freezes in times of danger..._ Hermione shook the thought and watched on the ground beside Ron while Oliver made the team practice the same drill over and over. Until a bright flash distracted Harry, sending him careening to the ground.

"Hey, you!" Oliver shouted at the bushes. "Get out of there!"

"Spying on our practice?" Angelina asked as Colin came out of the bushes.

"No," Harry sighed. "He's not a Slytherin spy, they don't need one."

Harry pointed to seven green-robed figures holding uniform black brooms. _This is not going to end well._

Hermione and Ron joined the cluster and Hermione saw the faces of the team. Their new Seeker was non-other than Draco Malfoy. Arguments broke out over the rights to the pitch, Oliver claiming they booked it special, but the Slytherin had a note permitting them to use it in order to train Malfoy before as Seeker. Gryffindors had no such note. Then the verbal sparing became personal.

"All nimbus-two-thousand-ones," Malfoy said smugly. "Best broom on the market, Potter. Certainly better than that bundle of twigs you lot share. Did you have to make your own, Weasley?"

Ron opened his mouth to argue but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Ron, please," she whispered. "Don't make it worse."

"Harry could _destroy_ you on a bundle of twigs, even with your _top broom!_" Colin piped up angrily.

In truth, Hermione was considering saying something about Malfoy having no talent and needing to buy his way in too, but the uneasy truce meant she couldn't.

"Shut your mudblood boyfriend up, Potter!"

"You son of bitch!_" _Hermione cried along with other similar outraged cries from her housemates.

Everyone was out for a pint of Malfoy's pure blood, at least verbally, though Hermione did cling to Ron's arm preventing him from launching at Malfoy. A method Angelina and Oliver used with the twins, though both continued to shout vitriol at the smug prat. That's when Hermione noticed both Harry and Colin were dead silent. She turned to face a pale, teary-eyed Colin.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Wh-what is he talking about," Colin squeaked.

Hermione glared at Malfoy. _Truce over, purist bastard! _ "It's a derogatory term for muggle-borns," she sighed. "There's a belief among some wizards that blood purity is important. The Malfoys are basically like royalty."

Malfoy smirked.

"You know, sharing similar features, prone to hemophilia and a general confusion as to who their parents and cousins are," Hermione continued smoothly.

Colin still looked hurt, but he gave a weak smile and the Gryffindors sniggered, but Malfoy glared at Hermione with a malice normally reserved for Harry.

"_I _don't have a general confusion as to who _my _mother is," Malfoy sneered. "Might I ask who yours is? That's right!It's the one question you can't answer because she left you. I bet you weren't even a day old!"

There was nothing Hermione could say to that. She cast her eyes down to the grass and dug her nails into her hands. _I refuse to cry in front of this bastard. _Had he any clue that was her worst fear? Even after seeing what might potentially be her biological parents in the mirror of Erised for all of two seconds the previous year, she still had dreams of "her mother" letting her know just how unwanted she truly was. _Fuck!_

"Eat slugs-" Ron shouted.

"Leave it, Ron," she tightened her grip around Ron's wand arm but kept her eyes on the ground. "What he said about me has nothing on what he said earlier."

"But-" Ron started.

Hermione shook her head and turned to leave, addressing the Slytherins before she left. "Best of luck training this one, Flint, I'm not sure he can ride that fancy new broom with his wand shoved so far up his arse. I have to go."

But Hermione did not get the last word in, nor did she stop Ron from making a stupid mistake. She heard his 'eat slugs' demand half way through the corridor and cold cruel laughter that suggested the spell backfired on him.

_Damn it, Ron!_

* * *

"There you are!" McGonagall's voice called as Hermione rushed to her father's office.

McGonagall stood in front of her, arms folded and her nostrils flared. "I simply don't know why you, Potter and Weasley are so hard to locate!"

"Erm, sorry, Professor," Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

"I've set up your detentions for eight o'clock tonight. Madam Pince specifically requested you for re-ordering her library. And if you find Potter and Weasley before I do, tell them Weasley's to meet Filch in the trophy hall, and Potter was requested by Professor Lockhart."

Hermione bit her lip and steadied herself. "I thought Madam Pince requested all detentions be sent her way?"

"She did," McGonagall said. "But other tasks still need to be done, and I'm not sure it's _your _place to criticise."

"Understood, Professor," Hermione nodded before checking her watch. _Shit!_ "Sorry, I really have to go!"

"Wait!" she called. "Where _can _I find Potter and Weasley?"

"Try the training grounds!" Hermione suggested before running off.

"No running in the corridors!"

* * *

"Did you _run _here?" her father asked letting her in.

"I'm on time, aren't I?" Hermione gasped.

"Apparently at the cost of your lungs," he sighed. "You should have left earlier. Though you didn't exactly oversleep now, so what kept you?"

_How the hell?!_ Hermione examined his face, and found that for someone with such a volatile temper, he was surprisingly good at hiding his emotions when he wanted. His pale face held no clues, no narrowing of his black eyes, crinkling of his aquiline nose, and no flushing nor draining of colour in his face. All that was betrayed was her father's curiosity from his raised black eyebrows. _We really _do _look nothing a like. Maybe he _did _find me abandoned in the rubbish..._

"What gave it away?" Hermione asked attempting to sound good-humoured.

"You did," he shrugged taking his seat and gesturing for her to do the same. "You don't make a habit of being late, so I made an assumption. You simply confirmed it. And-" he plucked a maple seed, probably dislodged from the drills, from her hair. "-this might have given you away. I don't know what you were doing, but given your social circle, love, I have to ask. Is there anything you would sooner I hear from you than find out? Because I _will_ find out."

_Would Malfoy feel safe complaining to him about me?_ Hermione wondered how much sway the Malfoys had. Calling him inbred and the joke about his wand...her father certainly wouldn't approve. No, she was certain even with the epithet toward Colin and the comment about her mother, he would see her as the party out of line. She could hear it all now. _I told you not antagonize that boy! You stupid girl! _The real question was, did Malfoy know which side he'd pick?

"I see," he sighed. "Shall I take your silence as a no. Now-"

_Fuck it, get it over with! _"I _might_ have implied Draco Malfoy was inbred!" she admitted staring at her feet.

"_You did what?!"_

"And, erm, perhaps made a crude suggestion as to where he keeps his wand."

"Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape!" he shouted. "What the _hell_ were you thinking?!"

"You weren't there!" Hermione argued. "He called Colin a 'mud-"

"_Language_!" he shouted before rubbing his temples and giving an exasperated sigh. "Shit."

An awkward silence filled the room and Hermione began to wonder if she had spared herself anything by telling him first. More importantly, she wondered if he gave a damn that his prized student was a blood-purist. She wanted him to care, but felt more like the position she'd put him in. She stared at her hands as she dug her nails in further into her hands.

"Hermione," he rested his hand on her head. "Look at me, love."

She obliged and his expression was much softer than she had expected.

"You aren't wrong to be upset about, to be quite frank, his disgusting views. Your anger is more than justified, love," he leaned over to be eye-level with her. "And between the two of us; you're not wrong about pureblooded wizards being interrelated to some extent. I imagine we would have died out a long time ago if it weren't for two things, marrying muggles and wizards born to muggles."

"So, you understand?" Hermione asked. _Thank god you're not like them!_

"I do, love," he sighed. "_However-"_

_I knew this was coming..._

"Your anger is justified, but your comments are most certainly not. Not only are they _highly_ inappropriate, but you _can't_ be picking fights with Draco Malfoy. It won't end well for either of us."

"So I'm supposed to just let it happen?" Hermione choked. "That hardly seems fair!"

"Life's not fair, love," her father sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Perhaps next time report the little shit to Professor McGonagall? He'll face the consequences and neither of us will be implicated."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I-erm-I'm confused. I-erm-I thought you liked Draco Malfoy."

He sighed again shaking his head. "Like? No. I pity the boy, to be sure, but I don't care much for the boy beyond that."

"You feel sorry for that prat?" Hermione squeaked, unable to help herself. _Shit!_

"Language, little girl," he said. "And yes, I feel sorry for the boy. Surely you noticed that outside of the boy's own house he's not treated with much compassion at all? The boy's parents are idiots. Raised him to think he had to get the whole world to fear or admire him. It's a strange mixture of entitlement and insecurity many families like the Malfoys harbour. Between that and the staff and students all assuming he's evil because of his father's actions _before he was born_ and being sorted into a particular house. So, yes, despite his inexcusable behaviour, I still feel sorry for him."

Hermione thought of all the Slytherins she knew. True, interhouse friendships were rare, but they happened. Yet none of them seemed to happen with Slytherins. She thought of Pansy, who she only tolerated. The two hated each other and that was the closest she'd seen a Slytherin come to an aquaintence-ship with a member of another house. She wondered if it fell to her to be nicer to them or for them to take responsibility for their short comings.

"It goes without saying," he added. "That we never had this conversation. Am I understood?"

"Yessir," Hermione nodded.

"Now," he stood and flipped through his copy of _Defensive Charms, Hexes and Spells Grade 2_. "Tell me, where were we?"

* * *

"I want you lot to start in the basement," Pince explained pushing her glasses up her nose.

Hermione stood at attention between Colin and Neville. They were joined by Fred and George (Hermione was unsurprised), a pale first-year Ravenclaw girl with large silver eyes and waist-length dirty-blond hair, and a tall fourth year Slytherin boy with long red hair in a ponytail named O'Malley. _I wonder if you still hate my guts._ Luckily, he paid no attention to her.

"I normally wouldn't trust you with such delicate documents, but I promise that anything befalls them, _all _of you will regret it," Pince glared at Fred, George and O'Malley. "Especially you ne'erdowells!"

It seemed she didn't trust any of them, but she expected something from the three fourth years. She took them to a long table piled high with documents to be resorted and Hermione appreciated just how much work the seven of them were looking at. She didn't think they'd clear the archives this evening, let alone the whole library.

"I'll come for you lot at midnight," Pince explained. "And one page out of place-"

"And you'll have us crucified," Hermione sang and immediately started at the highest pile. "We know."

Hermione made a mistake, and she knew it when the Ravenclaw girl burst out in laughter, Neville whimpered and inched Hermione's side, Colin gaped at the librarian, O'Malley glared at the Ravenclaw girl and the twins looked from Hermione to Pince. Maybe Pince only made that joke with Hermione. Her tight, pale face and burning brown eyes boring into her seemed to say that. _Shit!_

"I'll leave you seven to it!" she hissed before marching up the stairs.

Hermione turned her attention to the documents hoping that she could drown out the chatter. Whoever did it was thorough. Hermione had barely started and already found a copy of _the Prophet_ from 1876, an old incident report from 1943, and disciplinary file from 1892. She set the _Prophet_ aside and opened the incident report to ensure that every aligned.

_Warren, Myrtle Elizabeth : Death report_

_Age: 15_

_March 7, 1943, _

_A fourth year girl, Olive Hornby claims she went to check on Myrtle Warren when she didn't come to class. She found Warren's hand out from beneath the stall. Hornby discovered the girl's ghost crying over her own body. Attempts to interview the girl's ghost have not gone well as she is quite inconsolable. At this time Myrtle Warren's death is presumed to be at the hands of the creature of the chamber of Secrets._

Hermione bit her lip. _Chamber of Secrets? Where did I read about that before? Wait?! Second floor girls' toilet? This must be Moaning Myrtle! _Hermione went to read more when the Ravenclaw girl sat on the table leaning in close.

"Any revelations? You look like you've gotten photographic proof of nargles!" she smiled taking a file.

Everyone but Neville burst into laughter as they took their seats around the table. Hermione quickly checked the dates of the rest of the papers in the folder and plucked the 1976 paper and 1697 leaflet from it before setting it aside. She gently smiled at the girl.

"I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way!" she beamed as if everyone wasn't laughing. "You're the Snape girl, Hermione, right? And you're the Weasley twins, Fred and George! You guys are hilarious! The prank with the flooding Filch's office was amazing! Though I do hope Mizusprites weren't killed when they cleared it out. And you two are?"

"Damien O'Malley," O'Malley answered opposite Hermione. "And I see why they call you 'looney'."

"If she's mad," Fred started.

"Then you must be howling!" George said.

"Everything's a conspiracy, isn't it?" Fred continued.

"Or is there another reason you're always nosing about?"

"Why don't you two fiddle each other in private?" O'Malley hissed.

The three attacked each other verbally and Hermione turned to Luna.

"Are you okay, Luna?" Hermione asked ignoring

"Oh," she smiled lightly. "I'm used to it."

"I'm sorry," Hermione nodded.

"Why?" she asked before turning to Neville. "And you are?"

Neville gulped and looked at those surrounded him. All well known, and he shrank beside Hermione. "I'm no one."

"No, you're _not," _Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. "Luna, this is Neville Longbottom. He's damn near top of our herbology class," _Third is close, right?_

Neville blushed more and Hermione wanted to sink into the floor. Who the hell cared about herbology scores? Surely there was something else she could have said to bolster Neville's self-esteem?

"I can't believe Lockhart," George grumbled after sorting through a stack of papers to the 'turn of the century' newspaper pile.

"All we did was ask if he pinched his eyes shut while curling his lashes," George laughed.

"He's a fecking eejit," O'Malley agreed. "I'll grant you that. Doubt he even did half the shite he says he did!"

"Perhaps he's a changeling," Luna suggested with a smile.

Sniggering ensued and to Hermione's own disgust she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes, and lost.

"Luna?" she asked.

"I told you, I'm used to it," she shrugged. "You work really fast."

"Erm, Thanks?" Hermione added another past issue of _the Daily Prophet_ in the pile meant for 1940's news.

"You two should have raided his office and laced his hair and skin care products with Tabasco sauce," O'Malley mused. "It's very muggle, but it'd get the job done."

"That," George said.

"Is genius!" Fred admired. "Dunno why we never thought of it."

An hour ago O'Malley suggested that Fred and George were in an incestuous relationship, and now they were exchanging prank ideas and laughing like they had been friends for years. The hatred of that man must have been something that created a deep bond.

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip before leaning closer to O'Malley. "Is it-erm-okay if I ask you a question?"

"You already did," he sighed. "But I'm in a rare good mood. Shoot."

"I lied," she said. "I have a number of questions. Starting with, on a scale of one-to-ten, how much do you hate Gilderoy Lockhart?"

O'Malley thought for a moment, narrowing his blue eyes and combing the area before a rather nasty grin cut his lips. "Eleven, easy."

"I'm going to admit to something," Hermione stole herself looking around at everyone. "But everyone here has to swear not to tell a soul."

"I won't tell a soul," Luna smiled extending her pinky.

"Aren't little girls hilarious?" O'Malley scoffed as Hermione took it. "But I don't have anyone I can tell. You're safe with me."

Fred and George grinned. "We're already in on it!"

Neville flushed pink. "I don't know what you're up to. B-but I know I'll clam up if the wrong person asks me. I'm going to put away the turn of the century _Prophets_ while you talk."

"Neville," Hermione leaned next to him. "Are you sure?"

"Erm, yeah," he nodded before vanishing.

"Leaves you, camera boy," O'Malley sighed.

"It's Colin," he said before turning to Hermione. "You asked to borrow my camera, I'll let you and swear to secrecy if you tell me."

"One more thing," Hermione said, not used to the undivided attention. Maybe her father and Fred had a point, she had expected someone to cut her off by now. "We could all get in _a lot _of trouble if we're found out. I'm not too worried about most of you, but I know you (turned to O'Malley) can't afford too much more trouble, but I need your help. In your first year, you circulated flyers. Can you do it again, preferably without getting caught or expelled?"

"Little spot of sunshine, aren't you?" O'Malley hissed. "But yeah, I can do it if it ousts that dodgy bastard."

"Good," Hermione nodded. "Here's the plan..." Hermione explained that she was writing an expose on Lockhart, and wanted it in every common room, the great hall, the staff room, and library. She wanted their help with the circulation (Hermione was debating on using house elves, and was happy not to!). She explained that she also didn't think Lockhart did it, and was looking into a lead on Mary Hannagan before the archives were messed up.

"Me mam used to be a fan of Mary Hannagan," O'Malley mused. "I won't be able to get a hold of the few articles written about her. Hunters operate best in secrecy, but she saved Mum when she was a little girl, and I guess Mum tailed what she could. I'll see what I can dig up."

_Can't you just ask her? _Hermione then thought on it further. Had she been in his position, she couldn't just ask her father for information on a hunter.

The night ended with everyone in a much lighter mood than when it started. They were making decent headway on the archives, and now helped and spoke to each other. Even surly O'Malley proved helpful. She didn't expect everything to run so smoothly. She wondered when the other shoe would drop, or if she had been right to trust Luna and O'Malley.

"I've been thinking," Luna mused when they all found themselves around the table. "Why stop at Hermione's expose? We could uncover so much more! Like Daddy does with the Quibbler."

Sniggering from Fred, George and O'Malley cut her off and Hermione glared at the three to no avail.

"Honestly!" she seethed before softening. "Go on, Luna."

"There's no school paper!" she said. "And we're O'Malley already has experience circulating, you're a fab little reporter, I can use tips from my dad, and we have a photographer. We should do it!"

"That's actually not a bad idea," O'Malley said.

"Fred and I are always snooping about anyway!"George exclaimed.

"I'm for it if everyone else is," Hermione nodded.

"Then it's settled," Luna beamed. "We should come up with a name."

"Hogwarts Hermes?" Hermione mused. "It's an alliteration and it evokes the Greek God of messaging."

"That's kind of awkward," Fred admitted. "Also publishing anonymously will be useless if you name drop your favourite book series."

"_Son of Hermes?_!" Luna beamed. "I love those books! The part where Jason-"

"Vereserum?" O'Malley suggested cutting Luna off. "Because we're revealing the truth to the student body."

"I like Hogwarts Herald," Luna suggested. "Alliteration and it's literally what we do."

The detention ended with six out of seven of them agreeing to meet every week on Saturday afternoons. She didn't know if she felt as secure about the _Herald_ as she did about the _Mercury. _But she also knew she wasn't head-over-heels for any of the members, and instead of being let into an existing group of friends, they were a rag tag group that were bound to get into conflicts.

Hermione decided she would write Hiro immediately as entered the common room. There she found Harry and Ron whispering with somber expressions on their faces. She noted Ron's face was pink and still shone with sweat. He must've only stopped vomiting slugs a little while ago.

"Is everything okay?" she asked in a lowered voice sitting with them.

Harry's eyes darted to Fred and George waving at them.

"Erm, guys," Hermione said. "I told these two I'd help with their DADA homework. It's not exactly going to be fun."

The two shrugged before heading up to the boys' dormitory.

"What happened?" she asked after casting _muffliatio._

"I heard a voice in Lockhart's office, Hermione," Harry said in a dead whisper. "But there was no one there, and Lockhart didn't hear it! The voice, it was like-just the sound of it froze the blood in my veins."

"Could it have been magically altered?" Hermione asked thinking of sound charms to make one sound intimidating.

"I dunno," he admitted. "But it kept saying things like 'kill' 'eat' 'let me rend your flesh'."

The voice may have froze the blood in Harry's veins, but the words alone froze hers. "And Lockhart didn't react at all?"

Harry shook his head. "Telepathy maybe?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know of any spells that enable telepathy. Just legillimancy which gives you images, not words."

"Tele-who?" Ron asked.

"It's a concept in muggle fiction," Hermione shrugged. "Whoever it was," Hermione mused. "If they had an invisibility cloak, Lockhart should have heard them. Unless he was in on it?"

Harry shook his head. "Ron suggested the same thing, but you don't really think he'd set all that up, do you?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "Polyjuice potion? It'd take months to brew, and they'd need some of Lockhart's precious hair, but maybe someone who doesn't like you took Lockhart's form and pretended to be him while a mate whispered those things to you under a cloak?"

"I can't see anyone going to _those _lengths for a dumb prank," Ron declared.

"You're related to Fred and George Weasley!" Harry and Hermione both said.

"And I don't see _them_ doing all that for a silly prank. Months to brew and drinking ode du Lockhart," Ron shook his head. "And it's only September, so when would they have time to brew it?"

_Damn, he's right. I'm an idiot!_ Hermione nodded. "Alright. That's off the table then. I'll look into it then, but I'll need you to tell me every time you hear it. Or anything else strange. I can't help but wonder if this is connected to the barrier. You two have to _promise_ me you'll be on your toes."

The boys nodded.

"I'm going to bed before Percy decides to write us up. You should too."

Was someone trying to kill Harry? Hermione resolved to hit the books first thing. If that didn't work she'd ask the house-elves. Libby was both well-informed and comfortable saying no to Hermione. If neither of those worked she'd resort to her nuclear option and report it to someone...her father? That wouldn't go well...Dumbledore? Would he listen? Either way, she didn't want to go there yet.

_Is his trust more important to you than his life? Stupid piece of shit..._


	21. B2:Ch5: Conflicts of Conscious

_Lockhart's Lies and a Liability!_

_The appointment of one Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart, 33, as DADA teacher seemed innocuous at first, perhaps even beneficial to the students, but after a month of enduring his lessons it has become apparent that the Gilderoy Lockhart portrayed in his books is a fundamentally different person than the one teaching DADA this year._

_"I'm going to fail my DADA NEWT if this keeps up!" says one anonymous student. "A whole month and he hasn't taught us a single spell! I can't even cast silently!"_

_This student's grievance is one shared with much of the student body. Many upper year students are concerned that they'll have lost very valuable years. Our team has spoken to students of every year and they have made their concerns known. Unless there is a 'feed my professor's fragile ego' section in the DADA OWLs or NEWTs, our fifth, sixth and seventh year students are, to put it lightly, completely fucked.  
_

_Another student claims that he once spent an entire lecture on his grooming techniques. "Seemed to think we all needed to know how he tends to his hair," says another anonymous student. Their complaints were corroborated with their classmates._

_These are not new complaints by any means. As soon as the first day of classes Lockhart had felt the need to endanger his second year students by releasing malnourished, agitated Cornish pixies without so much as a spell for them to use. Luckily, no students were harmed severely, but one might have taken serious injury after being hoisted onto the candelabra. And what does the great hero, Gilderoy Lockhart, do? He left the twelve-year-old student hanging with the pixies still rampaging about. He tasked three other students, also twelve, with clearing the room and saving the victim._

_"The spell he used to handle [the pixies] wasn't even real!" says another student. "He said a load of silly words and nothing happened, then he left while other students were still trying to flee the classroom!"_

_A student from the described class above provided us with a copy of their test to show to students and faculty alike just what Lockhart is testing us on. This is a shameless display of unfiltered narcissism and is harming students academically and physically. _

_The damage done by his neglect extends far beyond that of his students. While investigating this case we saw after the welfare of the pixies from the doomed second year class. "Whoever was supposed to take care of them couldn't be bothered feeding them," says an anonymous faculty member. "All crammed in that little bird cage? No wonder they'd gone mad. We've been trying to treat them, but there's no hope for some of them. Traumatized, can't be released into the wild like this. We'll have to give them to an expert for care. That tiny little cage, the pixies were covered in their own filth. No wonder some of them got sepsis..."_

_Three of the pixies in Lockhart's care died from their raging infections. We have included pictures of the pixies, but be warned, these images are graphic and disturbing._

Severus looked at the skeletal pixies, covered in their own filth, a younger one clinging to one of the dead ones. Disturbing was a good word, and he wondered if Hagrid knew what the student, probably Hermione if he thought about it, asking after the pixies planned. He read on.

_Pixies may not be humans, nor have the mental capacity of humans, but the extent of the cruelty displayed here should not be endured by any living thing. _(It was most definitely Hermione that wrote this.)

_While investigating, we also found Lockhart failed to mention Mary Hannagan, deceased, in his book _Break with a Banshee. _The at the time seventy-seven-year-old witch had been hunting Irish spirits and creatures for sixty years. The experienced widow had an alarming track record, we've found after some digging, that her cases (of those we could find) had a 92% success rate, and those where she didn't either capture or kill the creature, she managed to lure it away from crowds. It is entirely possible that she simply couldn't handle the case at her age, as Lockhart suggested in his interview with _Magical Cork Times,_ but Hannagan lost her husband while hunting the Waterford Werewolf. After seeing her husband of forty years killed in a particularly gruesome way, we find it hard to believe that Hannagan went mad after an encounter with her fiftieth banshee. Lockhart suggests the veteran hunter 'got old and sloppy', but made no comments on Hannagan's retrograde amnesia. We are unsure why she was not mentioned in his book, and any involvement in her amnesia is speculation. We have to ask, for someone so eager for the spotlight, why would he not write about besting such an impressive hunter? Does he know something?  
_

_Given his inability to perform a simple spell in any of his classes and the fact he did not achieve his Ordinary Wizard level for DADA (He only did NEWTs for Charms and Astronomy), the theory is that Lockhart received help from Hannagan, which opens questions as to his other books. We will be looking into the fate of hunters and other wizards in close proximity to his cases and will inform you as the case develops. We're not saying he didn't do what he's said he's done, but it'd be a shame if he couldn't disprove it by demonstrating or, Merlin forbid, teaching us, a handful of defensive spells.  
_

_Regardless as to the potential involvement with Hannagan, one thing is clear with his tests and classes, the students of Hogwarts would fare better with a potted plant for a teacher than the puffed up peacock known as Gilderoy Lockhart._

_And if you are reading this Professor Lockhart, for the love of Merlin, we implore you! Please, put the fucking mirror down and pick up a book. We suggest _Standard Book of Spells Grade One,_ for a start. If that proves too difficult, _Spelling before Spelling _might be more in your wheelhouse._

"Who wrote this?!" Lockhart choked.

"I imagine that's why it was written anonymously," Severus said flipping to the test excerpt. _Redacting your answers to hide your hand-writing, clever girl, but did you have to give yourself away with the plant remark? _"Tell me you didn't actually give them a test them on such nonsense."

Lockhart's face flushed pink and Severus knew the answer to that question. "These are very serious allegations, Severus. What am I supposed to do?"

"Hell if I know," he shrugged. "Maybe test your students on the subject matter rather than yourself? Just a suggestion."

"Severus!" McGonagall hissed, but she had been very clearly fighting a smile.

Others, including Dumbledore, did not do so well, some even sniggering like school children.

"I'm done," he said getting up from breakfast. "I imagine this will all blow over," _but I hope it doesn't. Foolish little girl. I don't know whether I'm proud or furious._

On one hand Hermione showed incredible initiative. The article was thorough, well-researched and written, and she stuck to her principals. However, this was not exactly appropriate for many reasons. One, was the mistake of actively insulting her teacher, that was not okay. The use of language? What school paper for _any_ venue would accept it? But most importantly, she was still sticking her nose where it didn't belong. Had he not told her that the Nancy Drew nonsense was to stop? She couldn't be investigating adults...it was going to get her in trouble. And digging where she shouldn't could easily land her in danger if she wasn't smart about it.

_Looks like you only borrowed the boy's camera for the pixies, _he noted looking at her drawing of Lockhart staring admiringly at his own reflection in a pool of water while a swarm of pixies attacked non-descript students in the background. He shouldn't have found it as amusing as he did. Not because it was cruel to Lockhart, Lockhart deserved to be called out publicly. He just didn't want _Hermione_ to be the one to do it. _If she wants to play reporter, fine, but she can dispense with the fucking jokes and bloody swearing. Honestly, where the hell does she get this shit?  
_

"Do you think it's true?" Abbot whispered to Bones as he passed.

He spared a glance to see both Hufflepuff girls Hermione's age discussing the paper. They seemed sceptical.

"No way," Bones said back. "I think someone's just jealous. And his classes aren't that bad."

"And he isn't hard on the eyes either," Abbot giggled.

_Hermione can make as many 'my teacher is illiterate' jokes as she wants if that's the alternative, _he thought as both girls burst into giggles. He forgot how much of the school _still_ hero-worshipped the bastard. True, beyond fourth year the numbers went down drastically, but first to fourth year girls developed, frankly disturbing, crushes on the man at an unsettling rate. Boys seemed to think he was to be emulated for that fact. And he wouldn't be surprised if a few boys fell into the same trap as the younger girls, but no one would say it. Maybe whatever resentment earned from the article would blow over. What a pity.

"You girls must be heading from your dormitory, no?" he asked.

The two girls stopped giggling immediately and gave a simultaneous "Yessir."

"Would either of you two like to tell me _where_ you found these, if not in the Great Hall?" he asked. _Tell me not directly from Hermione! Please don't be so stupid as to be handing them out._

"Our common room," Bones murmured. "There was one posted on the bulletin and a bunch in stacks on our tables, sir."

Did Hermione have any Hufflepuff friends? Perhaps she snuck in? How did she manage-the house-elves. That was it. Clever. He'd ask the first Slytherin and Ravenclaw students he came across the same thing. The use of 'we' and spreading them to every corner of the school, including all house dormitories would certainly shake suspicion. How could she be both so careful and so reckless?

He was lost in thought when a girl Hermione's size absorbed in the paper bumped into him.

"Oof!" a tiny voice squeaked. "Sorry."

"Pay attention, Miss Lovegood," Severus groaned. "Must I ask you that before first bell? Wait, are you seriously _barefoot?" You and my daughter have another thing in common it seems._

"Oh, someone stole them again. I'll find them," Lovegood shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, don't worry, Professor, I'm used to it."

_Okay, you and Hermione have a lot in common. Poor girl._

"I've found a stack of these in the Ravenclaw room!" Lovegood brandished a copy and he realized her arms were full of them. "Did you read it yet, Professor Snape?"

"I've had the pleasure, yes," he explained. "I advise you to wait until you're where you're going before reading the rest. The next person you careen into may not be so forgiving."

"Yessir," she smiled.

_I either really want them to be friends or for those girls to never meet._

* * *

"A house elf can do it, Miss," Libby answered. "But Libby doesn't know why, miss."

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Hermione mused. "I _really _appreciate this, Libby."

Hermione had snuck into the kitchens, careful to dodge Filch, his cat and Peeves. A few house elves were still milling about. Many of them by now had learned not to rush Hermione as she came at the door, while Libby made a B-line for her each time. The way she looked at her, her massive brown eyes almost teary as she smiled. It reminded her of the way her father looked at her when she came back from Japan. Hermione would have to see her more this year, and not just to pump her for information.

The tiny house-elf had been around as long as she can remember, and had tutored her in her early childhood. Before working in the kitchens, Libby had been a bookkeeper, nanny and tutor for a very wealthy family since the 1700's, and making her a rarity as an educated elf, but came to Hogwarts after the last member of the family died in 1920. House-elves seemed overly eager to please, but Libby always seemed genuinely happy to see her, and once even confided in her that "minding her was her favourite task."

"Anything for Miss Hermione," she beamed. "Now, is Miss Hermione taking care of herself?"

"Is Miss Hermione taking care of herself!" a male house elf scoffed. "It is not appropriate to be asking such questions of our masters, Libby!"

Libby rolled her tennis-ball sized eyes and glared at the house-elf. "Miss Hermione is Libby's charge, it is very appropriate for Libby to ask such questions! Perhaps Beanie should mind his own damn business!"

"Miss Hermione _was_ Libby's charge," Beanie grumbled.

"Libby did _not _just swears in front of a human!" Bitsy, a female house elf, squeaked.

"I don't mind, Bitsy," Hermione assured the timid elf. "I won't report her either. I'm a strange human, remember?"

Bitsy bit her lip, nodded and returned to her cleaning.

"Did you, erm," Hermione bit her own lip and wrung her hands together.

"Miss shouldn't be so nervous," Libby patted her hand.

"Libby!" Beanie hissed. "House elves can't be saying such things!"

"It's okay," Hermione assured Beanie.

"Hmph!" Beanie returned to work.

Libby covered her mouth to stifle a giggle and Hermione couldn't hold back her own sheepish smile. She then leaned in to whisper in Libby's ear. "You haven't noticed anything odd recently, have you?"

"No, Miss," she said. "Everything is normal-"

Just then pipes banged from with in the walls sending several houselves under the tables and covering their ears. Libby didn't dive for cover, but covered her ears.

"Is that just the plumbing?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Miss Hermione," Libby nodded once the racket stopped. "But house-elves' ears is so sensitive, that such banging hurts."

"That doesn't happen often, does it?" Hermione couldn't remember the plumbing being so loud any time she'd been in the kitchens during her childhood.

Libby shook her head. "It's probably fine. Pipes is old, Miss. Just needs fixing."

Hermione nodded before asking. "What are the chances of you getting Gryffindor tower shifts?"

"Libby has already asked Professor Dumbledore for them," she whispered back. "Libby is cleaning the common room and dormitories at three am on Wednesdays!"

"I'll be sure to see you then!" Hermione winked.

Hermione snuck out of the kitchen, creeping along the walls, and sticking to the shadows. She wished she'd asked Harry to burrow his cloak, but Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to travel alone if she did. She felt along the wall, wishing she'd the foresight to brew owl's sight elixir in advance. If she was helping her father with inventory, she might see what she can get away with.

_Shit!_ A lit wand penetrated the darkness of the underground tunnel and Hermione had no where to hide. Who was patrolling the corridors tonight? Why were they going to the kitchens? Hermione tried to think of an excuse. If Hermione was honest, she hated breaking rules, it made her nervous, so why did she keep getting into these situations? She held her breath and hoped they would simply walk by her.

The light approached closer, and Hermione noted two tall, thin forms bent over a piece of parchment. She could just make out the flaming red hair of the two identical forms that now looked in her direction.

"Hi, Hermione," George called.

Hermione let out a long breath before peeling herself from the wall and approached them. "How'd you know it was me?" she beant over their parchment to see what looked like a map before Fred stashed it in his robes.

"We recognize that bushy little head of yours anywhere," Fred grinned mussing her hair.

_I shouldn't have been in range of their light..._ "Merlin, you sound like my bloody father!" she hissed. "And don't the house-elves work hard enough without you tormenting them?"

"Hark who's talking," George rolled his blue eyes.

"I was following up on a lead for a case," Hermione hissed.

"A case?" Fred said. "Can we help?"

"Yeah, we're part of the paper now," George insisted.

"I'll let you know if it turns out to be anything," Hermione crossed her fingers behind her back. "Until then, I'll keep your little map secret if you keep running into me and my case secret."

The two exchanged a worried glance. _So it was a map. Wonder if it's enchanted..._

"Deal!" they agreed.

Hermione left them to their own devices and hoped they wouldn't get caught either. Hermione crept along the walls, grateful for the moon light streaming through uncurtained windows. To her relief she made it to Gryffindor tower without incident and was ready to collapse as soon as she entered.

Instead she entered to see a tiny girl with flaming red hair hugging her knees and sobbing quietly in a corner.

_Do I let her be or do I talk to her? _Hermione swallowed. _Please don't make this worse..._ "Ginny?"

"Oh!" Ginny sniffed rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her dressing gown. "I was just, erm, I-"

"It's okay," Hermione sat next to her. "I, erm, do this a lot too."

"Really?" she squeaked.

"Normally in a cupboard, if I'm honest."

"I didn't know if someone else would be in there," Ginny forced a smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled back. "Maybe we should come up with a broom cupboard system."

"Maybe," Ginny gave a small laugh.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Ginny hesitated looking at the battered diary in her hands, her lips pressed together in a hard line. She opened her mouth to say something, but her eyes widened and she hung her head. "It's nothing, Hermione."

_I'd want to be left alone...but she was considering telling...no, don't pry, you stupid piece of shit. _"Okay," she said patting her arm. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"In a broom cupboard?"

"In a broom cupboard!"

* * *

"Try again," Severus instructed.

Hermione excelled far more in the written, true, but she was never _bad_ at the practical portions before. Though the dark rings around her eyes and drained skin gave him a hint as to why she couldn't cast a simple hex.

"Yessir," she said.

She tried again and finally a cloud of bats descended upon her target, a spider, and tore at its body until nothing but a few segmented legs were left after the cloud dissipated.

"Merlin," Hermione covered her mouth and her skin took a green cast. "I'm supposed to use that on humans?"

"Only if warranted," he said. "Tell me you're not about to be sick over a damn spider?"

"I'm not about to be sick over a damn spider," Hermione repeated unconvincingly.

"Language!" he spat. "Y-"

Hermione suddenly looked stable. Pale, tired, weak on her feet, but she lost the green cast to her skin as quickly as it appeared. She wasn't going to be sick. That was a success given her reaction to the family owl's attack on a squirrel last summer. She could work with all sorts of nasty components for potions, but as soon as her target was living she lost her nerve. Beyond that, she had no issue using animal parts for potions but couldn't bring herself to eat one. Hermione was a strange little child.

"That's a marked improvement," he mused. "Perhaps if you slept at all this week you might have done better. Too busy with your little newspaper project?"

"S-sorry?" Hermione squeaked.

"Your little expose on Professor Lockhart," he explained. "Time you spent interviewing, researching, writing, drawing the damn cartoon, taking photographs of malnourished pixies, compiling and circulating the piece would have been better spent tending to yourself and practising your spells."

"How'd you know?" she turned her attention to her feet.

"You don't think I can recognize my own daughter's writing?" he shook his head and tutted. "The article was riddled with your cheeky little comments. Including your little jape about a potted plant. You're lucky I'm the only one that caught on." _Dumbledore and McGonagall seem to harbour suspicions as well. They hate Lockhart enough to leave it be. "Very _lucky, indeed."

"The man's a-" Hermione bit her lip and returned to staring at the floor.

"An insufferable prat," he finished. "I agree, but that doesn't give you the right to drag his name through the mud."

"His neglect endangered-"

"Students and a handful of Cornish pixies," he nodded. "Had you left it at that, you might have been taken seriously too. But you had to attack the man's character! You had a legitimate grievance and no one will care because you engaged in both mocking the man and speculating on flimsy at best evidence. And the swearing! If you want to be taken seriously you must be more careful about your language, Hermione, it reads as juvenile." _Juvenile? She's twelve, of course it's juvenile! Lily and I would have both pulled the exact same shit at her age in her position.  
_

"Yessir," she nodded.

"Am I to expect any other scathing take-downs of my colleagues?"

"I'm still looking into Professor Lockhart's other claimed success," she admitted. "I can't shake the feeling there are more Mary Hannagans in his closet."

"This _investigation_ stops here," he ordered. "I'm willing to turn a blind eye to this little endeavour of yours for now, but others won't. And yes, with every student in school having read this, Professor Lockhart will surely tear his eyes from a mirror if he thinks someone's looking into him."

"Yessir."

"And it goes without saying that I _will_ put a stop to this nonsense if I suspect you are putting yourself in danger. Am I understood, little girl?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

"Let's move on to the next hex," he said. "I want you to be able to perform each one in this chapter next Saturday."

* * *

"Sorry!" Hermione squeaked running into the library. "I know I'm late."

"Isn't this project is supposed to be your baby, sunshine?" O'Malley teased.

_How the hell did _that _name stick for him? _"It was my dad," she explained sitting next to Luna. "I couldn't get away until-it doesn't matter. Where are the others?"

"Search me," O'Malley shrugged. "Unless Snape's got them too."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I promise I'm the only one he's giving extra lessons to. But speaking of my father," she inhaled. "I have to tell you. He's found out I wrote the article."

"What!" O'Malley hissed. "Are you serious? How the hell did he find out?"

Hermione shrugged. "When I asked he just said 'you don't think I can recognize my own daughter's writing?' Apparently the article was 'riddled with my cheeky little comments.' But the good news is, he thinks it's just me (_which is more or less true if we don't go further. You were more or less an informant)._ That means you can back out now and nothing will happen. No risk."

"I'm still interested," Luna smiled. "I've already started on a piece about nargles in the school."

"I'm sure it'll be a riveting read, Loony," he grumbled before addressing Hermione. "I'm still in if Daddy didn't scare you off."

_Breathe,_ Hermione bit her lip, swallowed and said. "Well, it is my baby, isn't it?"

Hermione dug out her wand and rummaged in her bag for a brand new piece of parchment. She meant to read up on magical contracts and curse the parchment, but she'd been so busy between classes, the paper and Harry's predicament that she hadn't the chance. She had to _trust_ them. That didn't come easy. But both of them did prove helpful.

"Sorry we're late!" Fred sat at the table.

"But you should have seen Filch's face!" George finished.

"What did you two do?" Hermione sighed.

"We were negotiating rules!" Luna beamed.

"We just started," O'Malley jerked a thumb at Hermione. "She just got here herself."

"I'll tell you what I told them," Hermione said. "My father knows I wrote the piece about Lockhart. Right now, he thinks it's just me. But I can't promise he won't figure the rest of you out the way he's figured me out. If you want out, I don't blame you."

Fred and George grinned at each other and O'Malley rolled his eyes.

"You should know by now that the thrill of getting caught fuels them," he said with an eyeroll.

"Irish Bill is right," George smirked.

"Don't fucking call me that!"

"We do love a risk." Fred finished.

"Where's Colin?" Hermione asked.

"Stalking Harry," George answered. "Where else?"

"I'll fill him in when I find him," she mumbled. "Let's start. I don't think we should write on other students."

"I agree," Luna said. "It seems just mean when it's another kid."

'Are you serious?" O'Malley hissed. "Come on, you girls have been picked on since you first got here. Surely, there's _someone _you think deserves it."

_Draco fucking Malfoy...No, journalistic integrity._Hermione shook her head. "We open the flood gates there we walk a dangerous line. I'm not Rita Skeeter, I refuse to be a bully."

Luna nodded in agreement. "I'm a fan of punching up. We should only go after those who have more power than we do."

"This is precisely why everyone walks all over you girls," O'Malley hissed.

"You sound like my fucking father!" Hermione hissed back.

"I do _not_ sound like that man!"

"Shh!" Pince, who seemed to appear from nowhere bent over their table.

"Sorry, Madam Pince," Hermione whispered.

Pince stalked away after a meaningful glare and Hermione mulled over other meeting places in her head.

"What a bitch," O'Malley grumbled. "This is why I messed up the library in the first place."

"_You did that?!"_ Hermione hissed, minding her volume. _How could he? This place, it- how! I felt so sorry for you too!-but he can't be all that bad, can he? He gave me the information on Hannagan..._

"I had my reasons," he shrugged.

"Really?" Fred choked. "How'd you do it without getting caught?"

"That's impressive," George grinned.

Hermione and Luna sat with the three boys in silence as they swapped prank ideas and one pattern became abundantly clear. O'Malley's were as clever as Fred and George's but often took a step further in cruelty. Which neither twin seemed to mind. She didn't know how long they were sitting there when Colin ran to the table taking the last chair at the table on Luna's other side.

"Hi, Colin," said Fred.

"Did I miss anything?" he asked.

"Just some hilarious but quite mean prank ideas," Luna said in a dreamy voice. "And Hermione and I want to not write about other students."

"I can agree to that. We're not a paparazzi," he nodded.

_You'd have fooled Harry!_ Hermione thought, but said: "I'm happy there's at least one male in the species that sees sense!" _Merlin, don't be so sexist! _

Colin went beat red and fiddled with his camera.

Luna giggled, covering her mouth. "You look like their hair," she managed.

"Sorry," Hermione murmured burying her face in her arms.

"I actually think I agree with the younger ones," Fred mused.

"We're two and three years younger than you, Fred," Hermione muttered before raising her head. "That means you two are out voted. Let's do this by majority rule."

"None of our family members!" Luna suggested and Hermione wanted to kiss her.

_Thank you so much!_

"Mr. Weasley works in the ministry and is an easy mark, Daddy edits the Quibbler, I can see him coming up and don't want him to, and Hermione's father is a _very_ easy target that four out of the six of us here already want to take a piece out of," she explained. "So, family should be out. Show of hands?"

Everyone's hand but O'Malley's raised. He conceded to this one much more gracefully. "I have no issue with losing there. If Snape's as sharp as you say, he'd identify who ever wrote the take down easily. And I have no qualms not writing about Lovegood or Weasley."

"No students, no family," Hermione summed up. "Anything else?"

A moment of silence passed and O'Malley spoke. "We should maybe have roles? Like columns? This is your baby, what do you want to do?"

"Well," Hermione mused. "It was technically Luna's idea. Luna?"

"Hmm," she mused. "I think we should just write what we want. But if we want to be taken seriously, we should also advertise club meetings and write on events like quidditch matches. We could also do advice and humour."

"And protests and open letters?" Hermione suggested.

"Sure," Luna nodded. "Those would be good."

"Fred and I should cover quidditch!"

"Conflict of interest!" Hermione scoffed. "Plus how can you report on it when playing it?"

"I can do it!" Colin said. "I'll be there to take pictures anyway!"

"Fred and George should write humour pieces," Luna mused.

The meeting ended with everyone more or less happy with Luna's assigned tasks. They all agreed to keep it anonymous, though Hermione did worry it'd no longer look like she was the only culprit. They couldn't meet in public again. Her father would be on them in an instant. He'd buy Hermione hanging out with any of them individually, but together, not so much.

Hermione lingered after the meeting to work on her Transfiguration essay. She poured over volumes on organic to inorganic matter transfigurations. Turning hedgehogs to pin cushions seemed so cruel, but she would be damned if she got anything but a perfect score. _Your principles are rock solid, aren't they? You're pathetic._ She sighed and began her first read through. By the time she had all the quotes she wanted gathered she noticed that it was dark outside the window behind her. Torches and candles were lit, and the tables around her were either empty or occupied by older students studying for OWLs and NEWTs.

It was fine. She'd just write her outline and be off. It wouldn't take her long...though her eyelids were growing very heavy.

* * *

Hermione woke up under a cherry blossom tree in Mahoukatoro's southern garden. The blossoms were light and fluffy, falling to the ground too early for the season. She watched the light pink petals drift down on the light salty breeze through the crisp blue sky. _Why are you blooming so early?_

She looked to her side to see Hiro smiling at her, his hazel eyes turning upward at the edges under a mop of messy black hair that blew with the blossoms in the breeze. Hermione always loved that Hiro smiled with his whole face. He had to be the most beautiful boy she'd ever met. And his smile simply made her heart leap. She was enraptured by whatever he was about to say when he leaned in very close to her.

"I read your article," he said suddenly.

"Did you like it?" she asked.

Hiro threw his head back in an icy very unHiro-like laugh. "Oh, Hermi-chan, I always thought you were so sweet in your letters. But that article, and the thing you said to Malfoy...I mean, he's just an insecure boy. I knew you were ugly, but I didn't know you were a terrible person!"

"Hiro, I,erm,I-" tears sprang to Hermione's eyes.

"You really _are _just like your father, aren't you?"

"Please don't say that!" she squeaked.

"No, you're right," Hiro admitted. "At least your father's clever."

"Why didn't you tell me you were questioning whether or not you liked girls too?" Saiyaka said. "Might have blown your non-existent chances with Hiro, but I might have felt less alone. You are so selfish!"

"It's worse than that," Luna said, appearing from nowhere. "You think all my ideas are rubbish. Admit it. I'm a poor unwanted girl like you, and you patronize me rather than listen!"

"Why wouldn't you stay to comfort me?" Ginny sobbed clutching her diary.

"You promised you'd help me," Neville whimpered.

"You're useless, aren't you?" Ron scoffed. "Just bury your ugly face in those books while Harry and I figure out what happened. Maybe then you'll wake up."

"Have you looked into the voice yet, Hermione?" Harry asked. "You said you would!"

"Libby wishes you would stop bothering her! Libby just wants to be left alone!" Libby cried covering her ears. "Shut those damn pipes up!"

"You didn't defend me until I was useful to you!" Colin seethed. "You let Harry and Ron shove me around. I just wanted to be friends!"

"How could I have raised such a stupid, cruel child?" her father sighed from behind her. "Your mother was right to leave. Oh, Jesus, you're not fucking crying are you? You're pathetic!"

Now everyone was encircled her as Hermione kowtowed, trembling into the tree roots trying to block out the angry yelling as she tried to muster an apology through her tears. That was when she heard everyone's voices ring in unison:

"You stupid piece of shit!"

"No use talking to that one," Ron grumbled. "Nothing will wake her up."

* * *

"Wake up!" Ron whispered in her ear.

Hermione was back at the Hogwarts library, not Mahoukatoro's south garden. Harry and Ron sat on either side of her, looking rather worried. _Have they made a development? _

"You weren't at lunch or supper," Harry explained. "We got worried."

"Why," Ron stared at Hermione's parchment. "Is this half written in weird scribbles?"

"It's kanji, you ig-oh, no!" Hermione cried reading through her paper. It was written in a mixture of English, French, Elvish, Japanese and literal scribbles. She'd really bulloxed it up. How was she supposed to hand that in? She-no, it was just the outline. She was fine. "I didn't know I could write in my sleep," she forced a giggle. "Oops!"

"I'd kick you three out for noise, but the library is closing," Pince spat. "Run along before I decide to enlist your help with the transfiguration section."

The three nodded as Hermione got on to her shaky feet, pins and needles shot up her legs and her stiff shoulders ached. _How the hell...I feel like I'm eighty!_ Hermione didn't mention reordering the library to the specifications she remembered herself was hardly a punishment to her, that would earn comments from Ron and Harry in real life.

"Did hear that voice again?"Hermione asked in a whisper as they climbed the stairs.

Harry shook his head. "Only voice I heard today was Oliver's demanding I practice more."

"Fun," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Still on about the damn cup?"

"You know it!" Harry sighed.

"You should have seen it, Hermione," Ron agreed. "The look on Oliver's face was bloody scary. Think he'd drink the Slytherin team's blood if he thought it'd let him win."

"In Oliver Wood's defence," Hermione said. "Everyone knows the blood of your enemies only makes you more powerful...or lands you with a blood born disease."

"Oliver would take the risk!" Harry laughed.

"You have to tell us," Ron said in a hushed voice presenting her expose. "We didn't get to ask you yesterday, but did you write this? If so, it's bloody brilliant! I didn't know you had it in you!"

"It was fantastic!" Harry agreed in a whisper.

"Y-you, erm, you didn't think it was, erm, too mean, did you?" Hermione bit her lip and stared at the ground.

"For that stupid git?" Ron scoffed. "I don't think you were mean enough!"

Hermione forced a laugh as the three entered the portrait hole and swore the two to secrecy. Hermione had hid out in the library since Friday's release to shake off the heat, so she hadn't talked to _anyone_ about the article. She hoped her father was wrong about no one taking it seriously, but had a sneaking suspicion he was right. Though the fruits of her labour, or lack thereof, weighed much less on her mind as she climbed into bed than one simple question. _Am I a bad person?_


	22. B2: Ch6 October 30 1992

"You don't think it's true, do you?" Pansy asked Hermione over potions.

"I do," Hermione nodded. "He hasn't shown any evidence to the contrary, now has he? Try cutting the stems diagonally."

"But he's so..." Pansy mused following Hermione's instructions. "Handsome!"

"He doesn't get a pass for being pretty," Hermione rolled her eyes before muttering to Neville. "You only want three large scales."

"I forgot you like them incompetent," Pansy teased scraping her stems into her cauldron. "Though I suppose he _is_ the only one you have a chance with."

Hermione cast a spell on her cauldron once her ingredients were mixed, then on the flame beneath it to moderate the temperature. "If I liked incompetence I would be fawning over the great idiot like you!"

Malfoy turned around to join the conversation with a nauseating grin. "I actually agree with her, Pansy. Being pretty isn't everything, and _she_ would definitely be aware of that. Too bad about your partner in fame, eh, Potter? No signed photo-ops now that he's been exposed."

"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry hissed.

Ron had leaned over Harry and Neville's desks to glare at him.

_Go fuck a duck, Malfoy!_ "I'd rather be ugly than stupid," she rolled her eyes and held up her hand to pause Ron. "Should your potion really be that colour?"

Malfoy's pale pointed face went from ivory to white as he quickly turned to his potion which, unfortunately was brewing correctly, but she still shared a laugh under her breath with Neville over his gullibility.

Her relief was short lived as her guilt returned. She was done asking herself if she was a good person. You are what you do, and Hermione wasn't doing nice things. She wanted to give herself leeway with Malfoy. She was so tired of his underhanded japes about her appearance, her mother, and her unknown origins. What was worse was the mocking of Harry's _dead_ parents, particularly that of Harry's muggleborn mother. His japes toward all the muggleborns he knew about made her want to hit the bastard. Then there was his treatment of Ron...constantly egging him on by insulting his family's honour and snivelling to her father. And he _attacked_ Neville on a weekly basis. Was it bad for Hermione to desire a little bit of justice?

"You bitch," he whispered after ensuring her father was safely preoccupied with Lavender gagging over her serpent tongue.

"I'm-I'm comfortable with the fact I'm a complete bitch," Hermione shrugged. _That sure sounded comfortable! Shit!_

"I don't think you're a bitch," Neville offered trying to split the tiny snake tongue on his tray.

"You don't have to say that, Neville. Oh, here," Hermione offered taking the tweezers and scalpel delicately splitting it in half before dropping the left bit into the cauldron for him. "Wait _exactly _one minute before adding the right half."

Hermione turned back to her work as her father loomed over her, Neville and Pansy, Harry and Ron.

"As both a teacher and a parent, there are certain words that my ears are fine-tuned to. _Explain._"

"We're sorry," Hermione nodded. "We'll watch our language, sir."

"It was Potter, sir!" Malfoy answered before Pansy could pin it elsewhere.

_Damn it, _ even if he did know better, Hermione knew her father would relish in any excuse to punish Harry. "I don't know why you're trying to cover for me, Draco," Hermione sighed before turning to her father. "Surely you noticed it was a female voice, sir?"

"I noticed _several_ voices, Hermione," he said. "But I'm happy to drop it for now before you dig yourself a deeper grave. Let's see..." he marked their potions in relative silence until he reached Neville's.

"Seems you forgot to add the second half of the serpent's tongue," he said. "Perhaps, if you didn't rely on a girl half your size for everything you'd be able to handle the simplest of tasks."

Sniggering once again filled the dungeon and Hermione wanted to scream. How could he get after her for attacking Lockhart's character when he actively bullied unassuming kids like Neville? So, he was pants at potions, so what? He didn't deserve such treatment. _And why does he insist on dragging me into it? He can't _still _be upset about me helping Neville with his homework...okay forging his homework, but that was on me!_

"One of these days I'm sure some information will get through that thick skull of yours," he sighed. "But I won't hold my breath for such a day. I simply don't-" his gaze wavered to Hermione and he fell silent.

Hermione's anger faded to curiousity. Was he sorry, annoyed, angry? Once again his face didn't betray any emotion.

"_Evanesco!" _he vanished the contents of Neville's cauldron. "Prove me wrong, Longbottom. Try again."

* * *

"Hi, Hermione!" Luna all but skipped up to her.

"L-Luna!" Hermione said feeling the sudden weight tug on her arm.

Ron gave a laugh at the sight of Luna clinging at Hermione's arm. "New friend?"

"Oh, Harry, Ron," Hermione freed her arm. "This is Luna. She's in Ginny's year."

"Hi!" she waved.

"Wait, Luna...Lovegood?" Ron eyed Luna with suspicion.

Luna nodded and still smiled and Ron grabbed Hermione to whisper in her ear.

"_Looney Lovegood?" _Ron gasped. "Hermione, that's social suicide!"

"So am I , Ron!_" _Hermione hissed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Erm," Harry spoke at a volume Luna could hear. "It's nice to meet you."

"Thanks!" she said. "You're Harry Potter, that must mean you're Ron!"

"Must be," he sighed releasing Hermione's arm.

_Fuck, that actually kind of hurt, _ "Is there anything you needed, Luna?" Hermione rubbed her arm.

Luna's silver eyes widened and she played with her bottle cap necklace for a bit. "I just saw you and thought I'd say hi."

"Oh," Hermione nervously wrung her hands. "Sorry, I, erm-" _Tell her I'm used to people only coming to me if they need something? No, not doing that! _She noticed the sheaf of papers in her arms and found her out. "I just noticed the papers and thought you needed something."

"Oh, these," she brandished one. "I'm just putting up flyers for my things. You see they go missing sometimes, so I offer rewards for their return."

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. People stole her things and got a reward for returning them! Hermione had only had that happen once-where it didn't involve a troll, a dragon or a cerebus she hadn't thought about it till now-and she was embarrassed and livid. She suddenly remembered walking back to the common room from the baths in December with nothing but a towel and her wand. Luckily no one caught her, or she'd definitely have put more stock into it. _How could I forget? That was humiliating, if this routinely happens to Luna..._ Hermione shook her head and pulled out her wand remembering her time scouring through the library after that incident.

"Luna," Hermione took out her wand. "Actually, Harry, Ron, pay attention too." they gathered round as she whispered. "After something happened last year I learned a summoning spell. If the arses that steal your things don't enchant them in some way. And it is hard to do. Can I see one of those flyers, Luna?"

"Sure," she whispered and Hermione studied the image of her shoes. Luckily uniforms made everything simpler. Had her trainers been missing, it might have been a challenge, but her school shoes were identical to all the other girls' shoes. She set the image in her head after studying Luna's small feet, similar in size to her own, waved her wand and muttered "_Accio Luna's shoes!"_

For a while nothing happened, Ron and Harry exchanged a curious look and Luna simply waited, whether it was because she knew how the spell worked or because she trusted her, she didn't know. Hermione was starting to lose faith it worked this time.

"Maybe whoever taught you that one lied to you," Ron mimicked her from their first train-ride. "Most spells do have a base in Latin, you know."

Just as Ron made that comment a pair of black girl's shoes came whizzing through the air, and Ron just barely avoided being hit in the head by one of them as they landed in Hermione's arms.

"You were saying?" Hermione smirked. "And Accio is based in Latin, by the way."

Harry and Luna started laughing, Harry a reserved snigger and Luna howling. Hermione felt vindicated for a bit, but when she looked at Ron, his ears flushing a furious pink, she remembered every time she had been made to feel inadequate.

"Erm, sorry," Hermione wrung her hands again. "It did take a while longer than it should," she lied. "I haven't quite mastered it yet, so you weren't wrong to doubt it."

Luna started summoning her items one by one, each item coming quicker than the last. She was more familiar with the items, sure, but Hermione remembered working so hard to get something to come to her from a room away in December of her first year, and Luna was only in the October of her first year, and she had just learned the spell. But she performed it without a flaw. It wasn't fair. _Life's not fair...Don't be jealous, you don't get to be the only smart girl...but even the spell I cast now took a lot more concentration on my part. Maybe I'm not as smart as I think...Stop it! Stop it!_

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Luna said summoning her copy of _Son of Hermes and the Huntress of the Moon._

"Just wondering if S.B Sugarquills ever intends on writing the fifth installment of the series."

"Not the ruddy _Son of Hermes _books again," Ron groaned. "We should go before this turns into a book club meeting , Harry."

"Erm," Harry blushed. "I'm actually almost finished the first book."

"Really, mate?"

"Hermione talked me into it!" he said as if Hermione pushed crack instead of a children's book series.

"I talked Neville, Fred and George into it too!" she grinned. "I plan on lending _Thirteen Tasks_ to Ginny when Harry's done with it. You'll be the only one who doesn't know what Arabelling or pulling a Jason is."

Luna gave a loud laugh again as she dug her copy of _Thirteen Tasks _out of her bag. "I was re-reading it, but if you want you can burrow it," she beamed.

Hermione couldn't stop herself from chanting "one-of-us!" and Harry and Luna joined in.

"Erm, Harry?" Neville choked appearing form behind them. "Is everything, erm, what, erm, okay?"

"Just convincing Ron to read the _Son of Hermes _books," Luna explained. "One of us!"

Neville turned to Ron. "They are really fun. Hermione lent me them last year. Far better than the other book she lent me last year. Ugh, I still get nightmares from that one."

"What on earth did you lend him?" Ron asked. "The Necronomicon?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Neville had such a problem with bullies, that Hermione lent him _Carrie. _It was one of those books where Hermione was sufficiently made anxious over real bullies, disgusted and sympathetic to the characters, and despite the emotional rollercoaster, she felt some form of catharsis. She had been stupid enough to think Neville would have the same relationship with the book. He didn't even finish it.

* * *

Severus heard some very familiar voices chanting while he made his way back from the library. 'One of us!' chants and laughter echoed through the corridor and he found the culprits, two small girls, the bushy-haired girl, Hermione, helping the blond girl off the ground as Neville Longbottom approached from the other end of the corridor. It looked as if it were Hermione, Lovegood and Potter tormenting Weasley over something. Longbottom spoke, and they started speaking. Severus could now hear every word. To his surprise, they were simply discussing books.

"_Carrie,"_ Hermione sighed. "A muggle sci-fi horror novel. It's about a bullied and abused muggle girl who develops telekenisis-the ability to move things with your mind-it's written like American police reports and it ends-"

"Don't spoil it!" Lovegood cried clapping her ears over her ears dramatically. "I want to read it."

"Really?" Hermione nearly squealed. "That's fantastic! I'll lend it to you tomorrow. You'll love _Carrie!_ Do you like manga? My friend Hiro had me translate this one about-"

_Are you really so happy about that disgusting novel?_ He could lament over their lack of bonding over it, but he prioritised insisting it wasn't age appropriate rather than discussing it with her. However, he was right about it. _Not that it matters now. I'm just happy she's bonding over something other than her immediate usefulness to those around her...I'm not walking around them unnoticed.  
_

"Might I suggest," he set his hand on top of Hermione's head. "You hold your little book club elsewhere? Others need to walk through the corridors. Might I suggest the library as such a venue? I believe _you're _familiar with it, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up at him before nodding. "Yessir, sorry."

"And I would also advise you to refrain from chanting like a cult gathering in the corridors," he took time to look at each of them. "People might think you're up to no good."

Potter and Weasley managed to appear some what embarrassed, looking at the ground. Lovegood nodded with an easy smile next to Hermione. Longbottom had shifted closer to Potter. Perhaps Hermione's proximity to him made her a poor shield for him at the moment. He had wanted to say something about hiding behind his friends, but he remembered the way Hermione looked at him back in class and let it go.

"Yessir," Hermione nodded.

"Very well" he said. "I shall leave you to it."

He walked by them keeping an ear out as he passed.

"I swear, that miserable prat's always eaves dropping on us!" Weasley seethed.

"Ron!" Hermione spat. "Did you notice the bloody books in his arms? He was just coming back from the library."

"Probably to spy on you!" Potter hissed. "You can't pretend he hasn't in the past."

"Jesus, Harry!" she snapped. "I really wish you two would leave him alone," her voice softened.

"If _he_ left _us_ alone, we would!" Potter said.

"What are the chances you have a partner in crime willing to dig up some dirt on Snape like you did with Lockhart?"

_You never should have told those boys, love. Weasley can't be trusted with anything...  
_

"Not so loud!" Hermione hissed. "And I'll have you know if anyone goes after _my fucking father_ I _will_ go full Artemis on their ass!"

Weasley wasn't the only one having trouble keeping his volume down as Lovegood burst into laughter, and Longbottom shared a laugh with Potter over the reference.

"I don't get that reference!" Weasley snarled.

"You would if you just read the damn book!" Hermione yelled.

Severus couldn't help but smirk as the bickering grew quieter into the distance. After everything that boy had thrown at her, it seemed like Hermione was finally getting the better of Weasley. Perhaps if his efforts didn't pan out, that was one thing he could look forward to.

* * *

"I see, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I thought you might be interested in seeing her advance. If for no other reason than to see her no longer in classes with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."

"I, too, am surprised headmaster," he said in an even voice. "My personal distaste for the boys aside, you seemed to be thrilled that she involved herself with those two. So why separate them?"

Dumbledore gave a crooked smile and peered at him from over his glasses with a knowing glimmer in his blue eyes. "You always see through me, Severus," he sighed. "Had I-" whatever Dumbledore was about to say, he changed his mind. "She's incredibly advanced for her age, but you are right to suspect I have more on my mind than Hermione's academics. Of course, her choices are her own, but if she chooses to fight by Harry Potter's side when the time comes-"

"I consented to be a pawn in your plan a long time ago," Severus explained. "And I will stand by that decision, but you do _not _get to make a pawn of my child!"

"Do you not think I've grown to care for the girl, Severus?" Dumbledore nearly whispered.

A silence filled the room and Dumbledore's face fell, and those damn eyes gazed at him over his glasses with the quiet anger and disappointment that only he was capable of conveying. He didn't need to say it, Severus _felt_ the older man's emotions by looking at his face. Dumbledore cared for Hermione, but Potter and the mission came first. He knew Dumbledore would kill for Hermione, but he would also throw her in the line of fire if it meant saving Potter. Again, Severus mused on how he made Hermione's life worse by adopting her rather than better. He wondered if he was the only person she wasn't expendable to..._I should have been more proactive in separating them last year..._

"I'll concede it'll add to her own chances of survival," he admitted. "If you believe there's no way to dissuade her when it comes time."

Dumbledore's thin lips formed a smile once more, Severus often felt like he was playing checkers while Dumbledore played chess. He only knew what was necessary, and no words could describe the horror that he felt now Hermione was involved. What was that damn knowing smile about?

"If there is one trait she picked up from you," he finally said. "It's sheer stubbornness. I never _intended_ for her to involve herself. When she did start hanging around those boys I feared it would be a complication. However, it seems to be quiet the opposite. And now that she _is _involved, do you think either of us could really convince her to abandon them should the time to make a stand come?"

He was right. Hermione had a very strong sense of right and wrong from an incredibly young age. Severus remembered the little girl that cried at his knee over the plight of house elves and thought Goblins were unfairly segregated from the rest of the magical community. Whatever she lacked in her sense of self, she never wavered on her morals. His best bet the minute he found her with Potter was to remove her then.

"We don't know when Voldemort will come back," Dumbledore said. "I'm still hoping they'll be grown before the time comes."

Severus nodded stiffly. Eleven years and he still expected Voldemort to appear at the sound of his name to quell any resistance.

"It will be easier," Dumbledore said. "to keep an eye on her and Harry this way, won't it?"

"Hardly the point, sir," Severus said. "That being said, since Quirrell, I imagine he'll have a hard time finding another body to cling too. He'll have to regain his strength before possessing a human again. Perhaps they will be grown by the time the prophecy comes to pass." _If she's involved, I won't be ready then either._

"Hermione's safety is paramount to me as well, Severus," he said. "But is a better world for her not worth the risk to you? And what of making amends for Lily?"

Severus's heart stopped at the mention of her name. Lily, he had been the cause of her death. He _still_ loved her deeply, and desperately wanted to do right by her memory. Make up for the damage he caused. Hermione was his world, but in so many ways the memory of a dead woman who never shared his feelings over shadowed her. Just the mention of her name brought her face to mind. Guilt tied a knot in his throat and he clenched his fist at his side. The cruel reality was that he would always love her, but he could never make things right. The best he could hope for was vengeance against Voldemort and keeping her son alive.

_It's alright, love, Daddy's got you..._

"I can't believe I'm about to say this," he leaned in very close. "I'll kill and even lay down my life for Lily's son, but if it's ever a choice between him and my daughter, you need to know that I'll kill the boy myself if I thought it'd spare Hermione."

A dead silence filled the room once more and Dumbledore's lips formed a thin line as he stared at him, deep in thought. Dumbledore let him off for his crimes for one reason, and now that was compromised. Perhaps he shouldn't have told him, but he was right to have assumed Hermione would be a complication. Had he never found her, Severus would have no reason to doubt his own resolve to the cause. In truth, until Quirrell threatened Hermione he never did question his resolve. That needed to be out there. Dumbledore had to be confident in the decisions he made going forward. There was no room for error, or Severus's wavering loyalty. He just hoped that if Dumbledore would either send him to Azkaban or eliminate him that he would be given time to find Hermione a suitable guardian. He could no longer trust Dumbledore with that.

"As I would expect, Severus," Dumbledore's eyes searched him. "Arthur and Molly Weasley had admitted to the same. Though their role is hardly as pivotal as yours."

The blood froze in his veins. _You are fine with whatever decision he makes. You were always ready lay down your own life, you fucking coward, don't back down now. Just please don't let that interaction in the corridors be the last time I see Hermione..._ He stole himself and spoke in a quiet, but even voice. "Can you still trust me?"

"With my life, Severus," Dumbledore said clutching his shoulder. "I don't doubt your resolve. Your daughter isn't a liability. Knowing your daughter's true parentage only makes my confidence in your resolve stronger."

He nodded stiffly. Severus did everything he could to purge records of his 'discovery' of Hermione. There was one very simple reason he did everything he could to cast doubt on the potential of her being muggleborn. If she were found out, she would be in danger. How he wished he knew eleven years ago that he'd be claiming her from the start. That stupid, stupid claim about finding her in an alley behind a muggle take-away would forever haunt not just him, but Hermione as well.

The two men sat in silence until they head the staircase ascending. There was nowhere to go from there, Dumbledore knew bringing up Hermione's muggle heritage would end his objections. Dumbledore knew exactly how to play Severus, if his feelings towards Lily didn't work, his worry for Hermione did.

"Ah, Minevra," Dumbledore greeted her warmly. "Precisely on time as always."

McGonagall stood, her arms filled with books and papers. She, too, it appeared had mounted a defense, almost as thorough as his own. Though the advancement seemed to be far from her mind as her lips formed a thin line and her beady eyes examined the two. "Have I walked in on something?"

"I'm afraid that those won't be necessary," Severus said, collecting himself. "The headmaster has already convinced me that this is the best for Hermione."

"I did not imagine it would be so easy to convince you, Severus," McGonagall said. "I assumed you would be hesitant to advance her two years."

"Well, you imagined-TWO YEARS?!"

* * *

"Nick's been sulking about the headless hunt again," Harry collapsed into an overstuffed arm chair in the common room. "He's holding a deathday party on Hallowe'en if you two want to come. I can't say no, not when he looks at me like that."

"Really?" Ron grimaced. "Sounds dead depressing."

Hermione mused for a bit. She grew up surrounded by ghosts, but never once attended one of their gatherings. It could be very fascinating. She could learn quite a bit about ghost customs, and as dull as she knew it sounded, the idea thrilled her. "Well, " Hermione closed _Charming Theories: Principles of Psychological Charms_. "You celebrate your birthday, don't you? The day a ghost dies is the day their life as a ghost begins. It's the same thing."

"But less morbid," Ron scoffed. "Don't remember any recollections about murder or horrific accidents at my birthdays, do you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes remembering that Ron had become a bit of a prat on his twelfth birthday in March. _But it's my birthday, _he whined more than once while asking for favours from Harry and Hermione. Like being born was some great accomplishment. "I don't celebrate my birthday, Ron," she sighed. "The accomplishment belongs to the woman who gave birth to me, all I did was survive."

"I do not understand your family," Ron shook his head. "And didn't you nearly die loads of times as a baby? Surviving might just be an accomplishment."

"Three isn't loads, Ron," Hermione sighed. "And I attribute my survival to the healers."

Ron groaned and rolled his eyes. "What about you, mate? Were your birthday celebrations filled with morose tales?"

"Dursleys didn't do much for my birthday save throw some hand-me-down socks at me," Harry explained. "Though Dudley's birthday parties make me think that Ron's right."

"Honestly," Hermione now reviewed her Charms essay. "I wouldn't expect Dudley's treatment to be anything close to normal. I honestly wonder whether they spoil him so much because they think it's best for him or because they think it's worse for you."

Harry mused for a bit. "I don't even think _they're _that spiteful. Though I reckon the comparisons a fringe benefit every July thirty-first."

"July thirty-first?" Hermione said. "I'll knit you a pair of non-Vernon contaminated socks."

'You don't have to," Harry said sheepishly.

"You _knit?_" Ron chuckled.

"I grew up in near isolation," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't care if it's an old lady hobby. I had to get my hands on any hobby I could."

"You could have taken up something cooler," Ron said. "Maybe drawing? Or an instrument?"

"I painted the mural in the entrance hall, remember?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And I play the flute. Might I ask-" _No, that'd be a bitch move, don't do it, stupid piece of shit. _"Never mind."

"Barmy aren't you?" Ron shook his head. "Sometimes I think you can't settle on a thought long enough to speak it."

Hermione sent her eyes to heaven and stashed her in progress essay with her library book. "I must be," she sighed. "My follow-up on Lockhart isn't going well. I could write on the death day party. It's that or I have nothing for the next issue."

"Thanks," Harry smiled. "What about you, Ron?"

Ron combed over his own essay. "It's either that or only talk to my brothers and Ginny at the feast. I'll go."

"You two are the best," Harry beamed.

"We know mate," Ron smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes before offering to look over their homework for them. She spent some time on restructuring their points until she realised it just wouldn't do. She took their points, made an outline and created an annotated bibliography of books she'd already read on Charms, including the one she was reading. An hour later and both boys had very clear instructions, which was received with sombre dread by Harry and disgust by Ron.

"Is that really all necessary?" Ron said. "This is due on Friday, Hermione!"

"If you want it to be decent it is!" Hermione snapped wishing for the hour back before the guilt came back. "Sorry," she sighed. "I'm not upset, just-"

"Disappointed!" Harry and Ron groaned.

"Let me see the bibliographies?" Hermione asked.

They did so and crossed the several books from each, choosing both books that would be best for their points and made sure their was no crossover. She then listed the exact chapters she recalled would be helpful. _Thank you memory!_ "This should be more manageable."

"I'd be lost without you," Ron smiled.

"Erm, thanks," she wrung her hands nervously together and looked at her feet.

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry said. "I should have prioritised this over _Thirteen_ Tasks. But that does remind me, I'm done if you want your copy back."

"You finished?" Hermione beamed. "That's great! I'll get _Pearls of Persephone_ so you can read it next! There are some _huge revelations _Luna and I are dying to talk to someone else about!"

"What about Fred and George? Neville?" Harry asked. "It might take me till the holidays if the Professors keep piling homework like this."

"They're happy to read the books," Hermione explained. "But after their initial discussions or occaisional jokes, they don't much talk about them. And Neville refuses to say which one of us he thinks is right."

"If you can wait till Christmas," Harry conceded. "I'm happy to trade theories with you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You have _no_ idea how long I've waited to talk about these books with someone other than my dad. I can wait two months."

"_Snape_ read these books?" Harry snorted. "I can hardly picture that!"

"Yeah," Hermione nodded. _Why is it so funny? _"We used to read them together every night before bed."

"Wait," Ron's eyes narrowed. "_Son of Hermes_ isn't your _thing_, is it?"

"I'm sorry?" Hermione couldn't hide the confusion in her voice.

Ron rolled his eyes and spoke as if she were five. "You know? Like Mum and I have chess, or Dad and I have Pro-Quidditch stats?"

_Dad and I do crossword puzzles sometimes, maybe that's our thing? Cards? Are children supposed to have things with their parents? Doesn't matter, he's always making fun of me for liking _Son of Hermes _so that can't be it, can it?_ "Oh! That's what you meant by our thing?" she forced a laugh. "Of course not! It's an insanely popular book series, Ron. I don't see how a parent could see it as their thing. I'll give Ginny the book and grab the second one. Be right back!"

Hermione walked slowly up to the stairs wondering if she was somehow letting Harry encroach on her father's territory. He didn't seem upset when she said Hiro and Kaori were reading them. She would find another book series for them to share. What was the name he kept dropping when Hermione was too curious? Nancy Drew? If that was a series, she'd recommend it. She climbed to the first-year girls' dormitory and knocked on the door softly. There were only two girls in Gryffindor that year, Ginny and a mousy girl named Maureen Heath, the latter of which was sitting with Pavarti and Lavender down stairs. It was after curfew, so Ginny was either here, milling about the corridors or in a broom cupboard.

They'd only had stilted conversations since that night, neither willing to acknowledge it happened. Hermione understood that, she was nothing but grateful when Harry and Ron neglected to ask her why she was in the toilet last Hallowe'en, and the Patil twins didn't follow up about 'her illness' and her father didn't pry into why she was there when he suspected she was lying. No one wanted to be caught crying. Though Hermione wished she knew why Ginny was crying that night.

Hermione knocked again, a little harder this time. She waited a moment and sighed, maybe she was elsewhere or asleep. She bowed her head and began to go back upstairs when she heard the door open behind her.

"Hermione?" Ginny whispered, opening the door a crack.

Hermione turned around. Ginny's already pale face drained further, looking almost white against her red hair and red-rimmed eyes. _Crying again?_ "Are you okay?"

Ginny shook her head, swallowed and beckoned her forward.

Ginny let her in to the room, which was just as Hermione remembered save a K-pop group poster on Maureen's side of the room, and the room now only had two beds instead of three. Ginny brushed her limp hair out of her face and sat on her bed. Hermione nervously joined her before casting _mufliatio_ just in case Maureen came up to get anything.

Ginny fiddled with the sleeves of her night dress and bit her lip, eventually her brown eyes found her own, and Hermione felt this was so much more than first-year adjusting problems or bullying. Her blanched skin, messy hair, tear soaked face. Something was _very_ wrong with her, which Ginny only confirmed by throwing her arms around Hermione and sobbing.

Hermione hugged her back and soothed her hair. She wondered what she should say to her. Only Neville had ever come crying to her before, and Hermione could normally make a comment about Draco Malfoy, or assert his competence, or do his homework. But here, Hermione had no clue what to do but soothe her hair and hold her. Should she ask? _I have to fix this..._

"Can I ask what happened?" Hermione asked. "I've cast a spell, no one will hear us."

Ginny separated herself from Hermione when and wiped her eyes. "I-I-I think I need help," she said. "I think I'm going mad!"

"Ginny," Hermione squeezed her shoulders. "Why do you think you're going mad?" _Did someone mess with your memories?_

Ginny looked down at her folded hands in her lap, she grew quiet, the sobs stopped as she took a deep breath. "You said no one can hear us?"

Hermione nodded hoping her father was the only person who knew how to dispel _mufilatio. _

"I-erm-I, you see, Hermione, I-erm-I-" Ginny took in another deep breath before her eyes drifted to a pile of books on her pillow. "Actually," Ginny took up an erect posture and looked very much like Hermione felt every time she shouted 'I'm fine' when she was very clearly not. "It's so stupid," she forced a laugh.

"It's not stupid, Ginny," Hermione said gently.

"It's been a month and I still can't shake this stupid crush I have on Harry!"

_This has to be exactly how my father feels when try to distract him._ She thought about calling Ginny on it, or mentioning that everyone knew about her crush, but she figured that'd only make things worse. Was there a clue in the books she looked at?

Hermione cast a covert glance to the pile of books, all she had were a few spellotaped standard issue textbooks, _Voyages with Vampires_ and her diary, partially covered by the other books. Perhaps she covered it when she heard the knock to hide it. Hermione might have tried the same thing. She looked back to Ginny to ensure her gaze didn't get caught.

"Is that _really_ what's upsetting you, Ginny?" Hermione asked gently. "You know I won't say a word no matter what it is. I've spent-" _don't make this about you! _ "It doesn't matter why, but last year, I spent a lot of time questioning my own sanity. I know what it's like to feel like you've lost your damn mind. Please let me help?"

Ginny bit her lip, she considered something, but changed her mind with a shake of her head. "Have you _really _ questioned your own sanity?"

"Yes," she nodded with her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't want to confess the details...

How many times had she felt crazy? Trying to make friends? Not seeing a solid image in the Mirror of Erised immediately when her friends did? Not knowing if it was girls or boys she liked since she was sent to Japan? And when most importantly when her father erased her memory. She was certain she was going mad. A fact that wasn't helped when the choices were she was going mad or her father was a Death Eater. She still questioned so much...

"They're calling you the brightest witch of our age," Ginny spoke quietly. "How could you possibly doubt your mind?"

"Books and cleverness," Hermione scoffed. "Hardly makes up for knowing what's real and what's not. But if you're questioning your sanity, you know that."

Ginny looked at Hermione as if she were seeing her in a whole new light, and Hermione instantly regretted this. The shock on Ginny's face told her that she no longer trusted her. That whatever sensitive information she was debating on sharing couldn't be safe with the crazy bitch in front of her. Hermione wanted to cry too now. _How pathetic. She needs...well maybe not you._

"If you don't think you can tell me," Hermione admitted. "It's fine. But if it's serious, you might need help. And," she sighed digging her nails into her own hands now. "You need to ask if this is magical in nature. If someone's messed with your mind. That might be your answer..."

"Is that what happened to you?"

_Not entirely, and I wasn't exactly sane before,_ she thought back to all her father's claims of neurotic or self-destructive behaviour. "It doesn't matter," Hermione shrugged."But you do. If you change your mind, let me know?"

Ginny nodded still wide-eyed and Hermione doubted Ginny would come to her again. One thing did bother Hermione as she went down stairs to give Harry her book. Was Ginny's mental state at all related to Harry's hearing voices? It could have been a coincidence, but Hermione just couldn't shake the feeling that they were related.

_Tomorrow's Hallowe'en. After the Death Day party I'll see what I can dig up while everyone's at still at the feast. I just need an excuse to leave early..._


	23. B2:Ch7 Letters in Blood

"Jealous lad in sixth or seventh year, I'm willing to bet!" Lockhart declared. "I bet the poor lad wishes he had an ounce of the admiration I receive and that's why he wrote the article."

_You couldn't be further from the truth... _Severus thought while Kettleburn insisted they were primarily concerned with the mistreatment of the pixies.

"Say," Kettleburn abandoned his usual scowl. "Isn't your daughter into magical creatures' rights? Seemed keen to ask me and Hagrid about the pixies."

Severus opened his mouth to argue for Hermione's sake, but, for once, was grateful when the great prat Lockhart spoke first.

"Little Hermione?" he chuckled. "I can hardly see that sweet little girl saying any of this nonsense. '_to put it lightly,_ fucked'? I can't see a twelve-year-old, especially not her, writing that. Yes, it was definitely a boy from the upper years."

_Oh, you haven't the measure of that girl, at all._ Though he wondered why he had such a high opinion of her.

It'd been a couple weeks now, and to hear him tell it, almost every day he came to classes more potted plants on his desk than in the greenhouses. Of all the things Severus expected the students to cling to, the potted plant remark was not it. However, offering potted flowers worked better, he imagined then the students sending him mirrors and combs. The ones sending plants could pretend it was for sympathy or adoration then laugh at his reception behind his back.

Flitwick made sympathetic noises but everyone else remained silent. Severus turned his thoughts to the conversation he was going to have with Hermione. He was happy to teach her beyond level in DADA, and growing up tasked with prepping ingredients, he didn't see her suffering in potions either. He'd rather she'd attempt spells beyond level with supervision anyway. Perhaps...it'd be fine. And she was terribly keen about learning magic, maybe she'd be happy about it.

Frankly, he'd much rather think about that than about Hermione's fate being entangled with Potter's. He had to focus on what he had control over. He would step up their DADA supplementary classes, perhaps move it to twice a week, keep an eye on her and perhaps equip her with a sneakoscope or some other artifact. Though he wondered if Fred and George Weasleys' schemes would be severe enough to set off such artifacts. That was easy enough to suss out if he placed it on his desk next time he had to chastise a student. He could ask the houseelves to keep an eye on her, and he knew a spell to look through his owl's eyes...No, that would be unnecessary. Outside of Hermione's brief interest in journalism, the year was shaping up to be like most, which meant he could give her the space to operate independently without worrying about her welfare. At least, not more than usual. Where the hell was she anyway? He had sent her Archimedes with a request to see her before classes, but Potter instead collected the letter along with the four other birds she'd received.

Severus combed his eyes over the Gryffindor table again to find the Weasleys clustered together in the centre of the table, Potter between the youngest Weasley boy and Longbottom, all enraptured in a conversation while the Weasley girl stared off into the distance. Perhaps Hermione wasn't an anomaly for living deep inside her own head so often.

The library. Of course that's where she'd be. Well, if he wanted the chance to tell her before he suspected McGonagall would, he'd have to make his move now. _Or I could ask her not to tell her...but I doubt I'd be listened to. _He excused himself and made his way to the library.

He went into the library, Madam Pince leaning over the front desk and tearing her vulture-like gaze from the thick volume she had previously been engrossed in. Upon seeing it was him rather than a student, she buried her nose back in the book, it was one of those days neither could be bothered beyond a nod for pleasantries. He combed over the empty library until he heard the murmuring of hushed voices. Was she not alone? Last year, if Hermione had been in the library, she would have been alone outside a handful of occasions. This was good, he told himself, he wanted her to make more friends. Perhaps if he had been more attentive when she was little-and not just regarding her health- he wouldn't be so damn nostalgic for it...

He found her tucked away in a far corner of the library, sitting crossed legged on the floor as part of a rather unlikely trio clustered in the corner among stacks of books.

"I don't know why you always wear your hair like that," Lovegood beamed pulling the bushy locks out of Hermione's face. "You're quite pretty!"

"You're _hilarious_!" Hermione rolled her eyes brushing her hair back into her face and returning to her book. "If you're done making fun of me, can you pass me the _Magical Madness and Mental Maladies? _I want to cross reference something."

"Sure,"said Lovegood, looking a bit dejected for half a second before returning to normal, nodded and passed her the book.

The tall red-haired boy who sat on Hermione's side gave an amused smirk at Lovegood. "What are you looking at anyway?" O'Malley whispered. "More evidence against Lockhart?"

_When the hell did you two start hanging out? I get Lovegood, but..._him_? And am I the only one you didn't tell?!_

Hermione shook her head. "Unless I can get access to witness accounts going back a decade in seven different countries, I've hit a dead end," she sighed. "This is for an independent project of mine. I'll have something for you two tonight for the next issue, so don't worry about it!"

_Was it a team effort, then?_

"You could always join me in writing on club meetings," O'Malley muttered. "It's simply fascinating."

Hermione sighed and but kept her eyes on the book. "You helped me with the Lockhart case, I can hand it over to you if you think you'll have better luck."

"Mam only had tracked Hannagan," he sighed before casting a look to Lovegood. "I could always make something up."

That either went over Lovegood's head or she couldn't be bothered as she returned to her own reading.

"Awfully early to be studying, isn't it?" he said stepping out from behind a bookcase. "Especially while hiding in a far corner of an empty library. One might think you're hiding something."

The three tore their eyes from their perspective books and looked at him with different expressions. O'Malley paled and attempted to subtly shift further away from Hermione, his blue eyes fixed on him. Lovegood simply looked up from her book with an easy smile, as if trying to communicate that they were doing nothing wrong and welcomed the scrutiny of a teacher.

Hermione, on the other hand, found her way to her feet, with her book clasped to her chest and scrutinized his face. She was trying to figure out how much he'd heard, and she bit her lip and the nails digging in to her wrist over the book told him she feared he heard something more incriminating than what he'd actually heard. She looked back at the two of them, swept the immediate area with her eyes and approached whispering in French.

"Tout va O.K?"

_She thinks something else is wrong? _"I want a word," he said not bothering to switch from English. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble," he looked over her head to see Lovegood and O'Malley still staring at him. "_Yet._"

In the interest of time, he opted to have the conversation with her in a nearby empty classroom rather than his office. Hermione stood opposite him clutching her book for dear life the way she had once done with a blanket, quite like she didn't believe she wasn't in trouble. Or perhaps she was still worried he had some kind of bad news?

"Will you calm down?" he spat. "I already said you weren't in trouble and I simply have no interest in what you think I've overheard."

"Yessir," she nodded but failed to do so.

"You're such a high strung child," he sighed placing his hand on her head. "The headmaster, Professor McGonagall and I had a little chat last night about you," he started and realised those were the exact wrong words as she looked up at him in horror. "Everything is _fine_, love," he said. "You might even think it's good news. But however you receive it, I wanted to be the one to tell you."

Hermione nodded, silent, and still looking like she didn't expect his news to be positive in the slightest. Perhaps she could tell from his expression? She was better than most at reading his mood, and he could read the concern on her face just as easily.

"Between having grown up with more or less unrestricted access to the Hogwarts library, and the summers in Mahoukatoro, combined with your performance," he kept his voice even. "We've decided that it would be best for you if we advanced you two years."

"W-w-what?!" she gasped, her already large eyes growing from doll-like in proportion to bulging. "Why?"

"And that is precisely why I wanted to tell you rather than Professor McGonagall," he sighed. "I knew you might not agree with the decision and take it rather poorly. I was hesitant too, but trust me, love, this is for the best."

"But I can't, Dad," she squeaked. "My bogie hexes and summonings are _pathetic! _I haven't taken any of the electives yet, and-"

"Calm down," he said tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Very young wizards such as yourself use quite a lot of energy to perform powerful magic. At your age while you're exhausted, I wouldn't be surprised if you immediately improved once you put a pause on your 'independent projects'. And if you already know the summoning charm, I daresay you are quite ready. When did you learn that one anyway?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked down, wringing her hands nervously. "Erm," she squeaked. "December."

_December of your first year, that's impressive...__but you're lucky you didn't collapse! _"I see," he sighed. "I'm certain we've talked about the risk to your health practising spells beyond level unsupervised, did we not? What possessed you to disregard it at that time?"

"L-" Hermione started after a period of silence now quite pink. "Someone made off with my clothes in the baths back then. I learned it after that."

"Brown did _what_?" he said. "Hermione, you should have told me."

"Even if I wasn't _preoccupied_ with more important things at the time," she admitted, and he remembered how deep into the investigation she had been.

_That might have also been when she started avoiding me..._

"I don't think I would have," she continued. "It would have made things worse anyway. How did you know-"

"You think I'm not familiar with your tormentors?" he asked neglecting to remind her she started the name. "Now, the issue at hand...we've never done this before, so we're still working out the details. For now I am tutoring you twice a week to ensure you are ready for the leap when the time comes. Do you have any questions?"

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip and looked down again digging her nails into her hands again. "No, sir."

"Very well, then," he sighed. "You know where to find me when you decide I'm safe to trust again. You best get to class."

Hermione nodded silently and turned to leave.

* * *

_"Come take a seat and join my class_

_Though I might be admiring the form in the glass_

_I want you all to gather around and see_

_The wonderful, the magical, me! me! me!_

_Watch me admire the pert shape of my ass!"_

A copy of Lockhart's bibliography sang open on his desk, as he tried to silence the book, looking quite pink and flustered. Hermione had an idea of who the limerick's poet might be, and felt a twinge of regret when she decided that he wouldn't get to see or hear his handy work. Though whatever class came first, some student would've taken pity on Lockhart and tried to silence the book. _Sorry, O'Malley._

Amidst the bursts of laughter, even from Lavender and Pavarti, who seemed to fancy him, Hermione brandished her wand and silenced the volume. "It's still cursed, Professor, it's just silent." She closed the book. "Perhaps avoid opening it again-erm-sir!"

"Thank you, dear," Lockhart beamed patting her on the head.

_Why, _Hermione thought tucking her wand back in her robes. _Does every teacher think they can pat me on the head or pinch my cheeks? I really do think I hate grown-ups. _But instead she smiled and said. "Oh, it's no problem at all, Professor."

_Shit!_ the laughter was now directed at her. Hermione should have been used to it, but she stalked to her desk and shrank between Harry and Neville. "Why," she whispered to Harry. "Did I do that?"

"Search me," Harry shrugged.

"Because you're not as cruel as your father," Neville whispered.

"Neville!" Hermione hissed.

"He's right, Hermione," Ron leaned in over Harry's desk to whisper. "Snape would've let that sing all term."

_No, my father would have silenced it and then make some cheeky remark about how the great Gilderoy Lockhart can't undo a simple charm from a child. I can see it now..._

"Speaking of," Harry said. "You got an owl from him at breakfast, but we couldn't find you in the library when we were done."

"He tracked me down," she whispered."Did I get any letters from Hiro or Kaori?"

"You got four letters with two ravens and two owls with letters," Harry explained. "What did he want?"

"I'll tell you after the Deathday party," she whispered back.

"I reckon we know what it is anyway, mate," Ron whispered before lowering his pitch. " 'I don't want you anywhere near that depraved Potter boy, you stupid little girl'. Close?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and chose not to disclose just how many conversations she'd had like that since she was sorted into Gryffindor. She turned to Neville's worksheet. "Want help with that?"

* * *

"You came!" the Gryffindor ghost, Sir Nicolas, more affectionately known as Nearly Headless Nick, beamed.

The ghost didn't seem so sullen now, his white wispy form glided along the corridor to greet them and his eyes crinkled found a way to gleam without eye fluid. He spoke over the ghostly orchestra 's discordant melody with fervour.

"Of course," Harry shivered with a nervous smile and elbowed Ron.

"Wouldn't want to be anywhere else, would we?" Ron forced a smile.

"Everything seems absolutely lovely, Sir Nicolas," she said looking around the drab, freezing dungeon, filled with rotted food and half-engaged ghostly guests. "Do you mind if I write on it? If you promise not to tell anyone, I'll tell you why."

Nick swore to secrecy and Hermione whispered it was for the school paper, but reporters were supposed to be anonymous.

Once again, his eyes had that inexplicable gleam. "That would be lovely, Hermione! Bet no one will be writing on the Headless Hunt! More like the Brainless Hunt if you ask me!"

Hermione gave a nervous chuckle. She had no clue what everyone else was writing about, but she gave a nod and took out her note book and quill. Juggling her inkwell next, she did wonder how she was to conduct interviews on foot. She didn't know what she expected, but it was nothing of the sort. Ghosts milled about talking about their unlives, a cluster stayed by the buffet, and it occurred to Hermione that this was everything she was had imagined a grown-up party looked like. Dull, with a couple of characters to keep things interesting. Nick threw himself in every conversation he could, where Peeves made trouble everywhere he could, throwing rotted food at-through-guests and telling very bad jokes.

"Is it insensitive to say I expected it to be livelier?" Harry asked.

"Probably," Hermione whispered back, though she had felt the same.

"I wonder if ghosts can get drunk. I'm dead certain that's the only way living grown-ups have fun at these things," Ron muttered.

Hermione, again, had been thinking the exact same thing. She had expected games, and rituals, like she read about in _Lives of the Unliving_ or _Kaidon_ _Nihon_,but she instead found herself listening to all of Nick's conversations, hoping he could impart something worth publishing.

"At least there's food," Ron grumbled dragging them to the buffet table.

_Can you not _smell _that? _

Ron noticed once he reached the table, a massive grey cake stood centre with black icing Hermione doubted achieved its colouring with food-dye, surrounded it were furry tarts, cheeses, cauldron cakes, and to Hermione's horror a whole bodied trout with maggots crawling about its decomposing carcass. Her stomach churned and she noticed Ron's pale freckled skin take on a green cast as she tried to subtly back away from it.

_Don't you dare_ _vomit_...Hermione told herself, knowing that it'd be disrespectful.

"What _was that?_" Ron gagged.

Hermione, now safely away from the table, took in a deep breath. "Ghosts can't really taste food unless it's in a state of decay. I read about it in _Lives of the Unliving._" she gasped. "I meant to warn you-erm-sorry."

"We'll have to leave early so we can eat before bed," Ron decided.

_Yes!_ Hermione didn't need to come up with an excuse to leave early. They'd follow Ron up, Hermione would say she felt ill, and she could go from the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower and snoop while Ginny was at the feast. _Ron Weasley, thank you for your bottomless stomach!_

"Agreed," Harry whispered back.

Hermione fished out her notebook, her quill and capped inkwell suddenly wondering how she was supposed to interview Nick's guests if she were to juggle all three, and she didn't exactly want to employ the already miserable Harry and Ron as retainers. If clock gears worked in Hogwarts, she should be able to make a simple fountain pen work. It was far too late for this event, but if Hermione stuck around, this would be most helpful. "I'm going to interview some of the guests before interviewing Sir Nicolas," Hermione said before noticing a familiar figure. "You guys have fun. _Shit! _I have to wait!"

The wispy blue-white form of a squat fifteen-year-old girl with lank hair draped over her sullen face, barely covering her pearly spectacles, glided over the food table where many ghosts had congregated. She felt bad for being a bit of bitch avoiding Myrtle, but even with their similar experiences with being alienated for the crime of being born ugly, Myrtle could never be made happy, and Hermione felt her energy and patience leave her with every conversation with the teenaged ghost. Though her death had been tragic, gone to have a sob alone in the toilets and died at the tender age of fifteen, possibly due to whatever creature Dippet had written about. Hermione _should _have been much more sympathetic. But...

"What are you doing, Hermione!" Harry hissed as she hid behind Ron.

"It's Moaning Myrtle," Hermione whispered. "I know this makes me a horrible bitch, but I can't talk to her."

"Moaning what?" Ron said.

"Myrtle," she whispered. "She haunts the girls' toilet on the second floor."

"She haunts a _toilet_?" Ron scoffed.

"Yes. She's...let's just say she's hard to talk to, yeah?" Hermione gulped.

"Oi, what's this Potty Potter and his ickle friends are saying about poor Myrtle?" Peeves, who had apparently taken a break from throwing rotted food, appeared behind them.

"Erm," Hermione squeaked. "Just that I wanted to make sure I interviewed the guest of honour first, but I definitely want to interview her as the only student ghost." _Fuck..._

"Well, ickle kitten (Hermione hadn't seemed to shed the nickname given both a comment from a teacher the previous year and certain rumours of her origins having to do with being found among cats), it does seem like Not Headless Enough for the Hunt Nick is quite preoccupied, so I can call Myrtle over."

"That's not necessary, Peeves," Hermione squeaked. "I-"

"Oi, Myrtle! I think Hermione here wants to interview you!"

Myrtle drifted over to the three of them and Hermione saw her evening disappear before her. If she did want to interview anyone else, she would be there all bloody night. Myrtle still looked quite sullen and sniffed as she'd been crying. She stared at Harry, Ron and Hermione wiping her eyes. "You just want to make fun of me, don't you?"

"No, Myrtle," Hermione said in her gentlest voice. "You're the only ghost here the age of Hogwarts students, so I wanted to make sure I got your view on the party. Do you have a minute?"

Myrtle's silver tears vanished without a trace, and her eyes shone like Nick's had with a wide grin on her face. "Do I?" she squealed.

Hermione followed Myrtle to a far corner of the dungeon, away from the buffet as Hermione insisted to a "Hmph!" from Myrtle. She let Myrtle prattle on about how lonely the party was, and how no one said anything nice about her and how she suspected Nick only invited her to be nice, he probably did. She found that she had been writing on Myrtle's musings so long that her hand began to hurt. Worse, she had seen Nick talking to Harry and Ron in the corner of her eye. She needed to get him before his speech started.

"I-erm-I'm writing this for someone else, Myrtle," Hermione explained when Myrtle finished her last most recent rant against Olive Hornby. "They will want interviews with other ghosts, and I have to catch Nick before his speech. I have to write on that too. But it was-erm-lovely speaking with you."

Myrtle howled and a torrent of silver ghostly tears reappeared in her eyes, falling like droplets of mercury to the floor. "Sure, that's it!" Myrtle wailed. "Nobody wants to talk to Moaning Myrtle, Ugly Myrtle, Stupid, Piggy, Myrtle!"

"Myrtle," Hermione thanked every higher power in existence that she had more patience than her father. "You were the first ghost I interviewed, doesn't that mean-"

"That you wanted to get it out of the way!" she moaned. "Best get Moaning Myrtle's interview out of the way so I can talk to the real important people! You mean-spirited, bushy haired, buck-toothed pipsqueak!"

_Myrtle's fragile, leave it..._"That's not it at all, Myrtle!" Hermione scrambled trying to hide her mounting anger. "You're brilliant, really! It's just there's other people too. I mean this party really _is _about Nick, isn't it?"

"Because nothing's about me!" she cried attracting attention from all the guests. "Let's just forget stupid, ugly, piggy Moaning Myrtle exists!"

"And spotty!" Peeves howled, this time with laughter as he threw cakes through Myrtle, who now only sobbed harder under his chants of 'spotty'.

"Don't you have a defenceless caretaker to torment?" Hermione snapped.

"It's just a _spot _of fun, ickle kitty," he offered.

"I have to interview Nick," she sighed collecting her things. "If you don't leave her alone I _will _summon the Bloody Baron."

"But she called you-"

"Don't you _dare _pretend her torment has _anything_ to do with me!" Hermione hissed. "Don't test me, Peeves."

"You're right, Spotty," he grumbled to the wailing ghost. "She _is _a mean-spirited, bushy haired, buck-toothed pipsqueak."

"Don't forget heartless bitch," Hermione sighed wanting to either scream or cry. "We're done here. Hey, Sir Nicolas, a word?!"

Hermione got her interview with Nick who raved about the turn out, name dropping some of the more famous ghosts, and even introduced her, Harry and Ron to a couple of them. The Wailing Widow of Kent sent chills down Hermione's spine and she suddenly felt faint staring into her vacant silver eyes as she carelessly glided past them, while Sir Patrick- who carried his head and grinned-was as open to an interview as Lockhart was to a photo-op. Though he spared jabs to poor Nick every now and then, even disregarding Harry's attempts to make him sound scary.

Finally, the time for Nick's speech came, and Hermione felt nauseous, weak, cold, and tired, while her emotional state from the sheer number of ghosts wavered from despair, to a strange mixture of guilt and anger over Myrtle's interview. _Should I have done more to defend her...no, she said awful things about me, I can prove her right for all I care...She might be right..._ Hermione wrote sat and wrote what she could on Nick's speech until Ron spoke up.

"I can't stand much more of this," Ron admitted with wispy puffs of breath.

"Let's go," Harry agreed helping Hermione to her feet.

Hermione hadn't realised she needed the help until she wobbled on her feet. She capped her ink and placed her things back in her bag. "What will we tell-"

"That you looked sick," Harry shrugged. "I'd buy it."

Hermione rolled her eyes but followed the boys nonetheless, and her teeth chattering long after Harry and Ron's stopped as they made their way through the corridors lit with floating black candles. Ron pondered on what might be left in the feast, his stomach audibly grumbling while Hermione (and she imagined Harry too by his expression) wondered how he could possibly ever want to look at food again. Not that it mattered, Hermione had to figure out what was wrong with Ginny, so she could leave them to it.

"Do you hear that?" Harry whispered as they nearly reached the Entrance Hall.

Hermione closed her eyes and clenched her jaw to stop the chattering and listened. She heard nothing. "Is it the same voice?" she whispered in Harry's voice.

"Yeah," he said grimly. "Saying the same things. You didn't figure it out in your research did you?"

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, Harry."

"This way," he said leading Ron and Hermione up the stairs.

Harry crept along the wall with his ear to the wall, Hermione mimicked him hoping she might hear it to no avail. The two followed Harry until up another flight of steps as he moved with more urgency.

"I think it's going to kill someone!" he gasped.

Hermione exchanged a bewildered look with Ron and the two joined in the urgent chase. The climbed to the second floor, the corridor completely flooded, reflecting the floating candle light, and glinting in the orange glow, she spied something on the stone wall. They were letters, written perhaps about thirty centimetres in a dark, thick crimson ink-no _blood._ It read:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED: ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE

"L-Look!" Hermione pointed and gasped.

Harry and Ron followed her finger and their faces paled as well as they saw the letters in blood. Then Hermione followed Ron's gaze to find who had given the blood for the grim message.

Mrs. Norris, the skeletal grey cat hung underneath the message, her blood dripping into the water, completely still, and lamp-yellow eyes wide open in terror while her little mouth hung open as if to let out a yowl. She just hung there, by a string on her tail, skewered in her stomach. Hermione's leg shook staring at the cat. _Who could have done this?_ Mrs. Norris was by no means popular, but this was...it was beyond cruel. She knew Mrs Norris her whole life, and though she wasn't close to her, some part of her mourned her, especially given the gruesomeness of her death. No one and nothing deserved this...

Hermione's stomach churned and the weakness that had been plaguing her for the past hour took over as she collapsed to her hands and knees and began to wretch.

"HERMIONE!" Harry and Ron shouted.

* * *

Everyone left the Great Hall well-fed and engaging in cheerful chatter. Severus scanned each group of students leaving, still he found no sign of Hermione, Potter or Weasley. His mind took him back to the previous year's Hallowe'en and he felt a tightness form in his chest. Were those three out looking for trouble? He wasn't able shake the feeling Hermione had been dragged into something dire. Or else willingly followed them. If it wasn't for the boys' notable absence, especially given how Potter ate like a street urchin who didn't know where his next meal was coming from, he might have assumed Hermione was at the library. He felt a twinge of guilt as he imagined that there may have been some truth behind that statement. He did not imagine Petunia Dursley cared much for the boy at all.

_She has other friends now, she might be with them..._ A theory disproven when he saw Luna Lovegood skipping out of the hall clutching a copy of _the Quibbler _ to her chest. He later found O'Malley, skulking out of the hall alone, trying to avoid the gaze of his peers. So she had to be with Potter and Weasley. He'd have to go look for her. This was going to be a normal year, no monsters, no dark wizards, Hermione would be fine..._If she's missing from the feast again next year, I'm immediately leaving to look for her...I should have this time...No, Hermione is fine, she's fine._

He and the other professors followed the mass of chittering students up the stairs to make their way to their perspective living quarters. When his assertion that everything was fine was proven wrong.

"HERMIONE!" Potter and Weasley's voices shouted with urgency.

Severus's heart started beating in his ears rather than his chest, and he found himself clutching his wand in a deathgrip as he charged up the stairs. Silence ended the chatter, the only other voices he heard were that of gasps. He needed to know what caused that, which drove him to push his way through students picturing her injured or worse. '_I'll have something for you tonight' _..._Oh, no, love, what were you writing on? _

Draco Malfoy's voice was the next he heard shouting "Enemies of the heir beware, you'll be next mudbloods!"

_Malfoy, you little shit! _Did he somehow find out Hermione wasn't his biological child and attack her? If he harmed her in anyway...

"You vile little monsters! What have you done!" Filched cried.

Severus finally broke through the crowd to see Hermione on her hands and knees in about ten or twelve centimetres of water, her body shaking while the bewildered boys looked from a very red and shaking Filch, to a pink smirking Malfoy, to Hermione, to the wall. He knelt next to Hermione, and noticed that she had simply been sick, not cursed or injured. Staying by her side, he looked at the wall and suddenly everything made sense.

In large capital letters he read the grim warning that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. It was written in blood, specifically the blood of a petrified skeletal grey cat, Filch's cat.

"I'll _kill _you!" Filch hissed at Potter. "I'll-"

"You'll do no such thing!" McGonagall snapped. "What _on earth_ happened here?"

"They-" Filch pointed to the boys and Hermione. "_killed _Mrs. Norris!"

"Are you fucking serious, Filch?!" Severus snapped gesturing toward his daughter. "Does this seem like the reaction of a guilty party?"

"Severus," McGonagall hissed. "The students."

"I _know he _did it!" Filch jabbed a finger at Potter.

"Doubtful. That would require Potter to know some incredibly powerful magic, and that would require him to be inclined to pick up a book once in a while." Severus turned his attention to Hermione. "Can you hear me?"

Hermione nodded, still supporting herself on shaking limbs. She didn't seem to trust herself to speak, perhaps either afraid she'd be sick again or start crying. She wasn't particularly fond of the miserable cat, but he recognized that she had been there since Hermione could remember, and that had to have some effect on the poor girl. He lifted her from the flooded floor and cradled the girl in his arms, her eyes now transfixed on the cat.

"I'm telling you he did it!" Filch cried.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Argus," Dumbledore said coming through the crowd.

"But, headmaster!"

"Perhaps we should conduct this conversation in private?" Dumbledore suggested.

"My office is closest," Lockhart offered with an irrationally calm smile.

"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore nodded. "Come along."

"Do you need the hospital?" he whispered. "You're freezing."

"No," she said in a detached voice, her eyes on Dumbledore removing the cat. "I can walk."

She hadn't been able to peel herself off the floor moments before, but as he reluctantly set her back on her feet, she stood as solidly as she had earlier that day. True to her word, she could walk just fine, though she had indulged her nasty habit of digging her nails into her hands as they made their way to Lockhart's office. Once satisfied she wouldn't collapse, he caught up to McGonagall and Dumbledore. Filch had still been howling about Potter's guilt while Lockhart, looking very uncomfortable, tried to console him.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione," Dumbledore said upon their entry. "Why don't you take a seat?"

The three obeyed silent as the grave.

Severus, McGonagall and Dumbledore examined the cat while Lockhart asserted he knew what killed her. Severus closed the gash in her abdomen as he noticed it was still bleeding. The cat was _alive._

"A very powerful hex indeed, old boy," Lockhart said. "It's too bad I wasn't there. Poor Mrs. Norris-"

"Is alive," Dumbledore said before he could. "She's been petrified."

Filch let out a sigh of relief, and Severus cast a glance to Hermione, Potter and Weasley. Two out of three looked surprised, while Hermione looked pensive, still very nervous and set to destroy her hands and lips, but she was now deep in thought nonetheless.

"Yes," Lockhart back-peddled. "As I said, petrified."

"I know he did it, Professors," Filch said, calmer, but tears still shone in his yellow eyes. "He _knows. _He figured out that I'm a-a squib."

"I don't think Harry cares about all that," Dumbledore said looking at Harry. "Do you?"

"I-erm-I don't even know what a squib is, sir," Potter admitted.

"It's a child born to two wizarding parents without magic," Weasley explained. "Like a muggle born but the other way around."

"That can happen?" Potter looked astonished and that should have sated Filch.

"I'm telling you," Filch insisted.

"That three second years could use a hex so powerful that I can't break it?" Dumbledore suggested. "Do you really think that's possible, Argus?"

Filch looked down ashamed.

"I might I suggest, Headmaster," Severus said casting a glance to Hermione and the boys.

The boys tensed up, but Hermione watched intently, as if hanging on to every syllable the five adults spoke, trying to piece something together, however, upon seeing his gaze waver she immediately owed her head, as if trying to avoid detection. At this stage he expected the three of them had more information than he and the other professors did, so Hermione would be sorely disappointed if she were looking for clues.

"That these three were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?" he continued.

Potter and Weasley exchanged bewildered looks but gave sighs of relief while Hermione's posture remained unchanged. He hadn't expected to ever be advocating for Potter's innocence, but he wanted the information that might save his daughter from suffering the cat's fate.

"However," he continued. "I don't recall seeing you three at the feast tonight. Why would that be?"

Hermione and the boys explained that they had been invited to Nicolas's Deathday party and left early due to the draining nature of ghostly functions. Suddenly, how he found Hermione, cold, shaking and pale, made sense. Between her decision that food and sleep were optional when she had a project to pursue, the energy of ghostly function and the shock of seeing the petrified cat and writing on the wall would not have combined in a helpful way.

"Without supper?" he mused. "I don't believe ghosts serve food suitable for living guests at their functions, or am I mistaken?"

"We weren't hungry," Weasley's stomach betrayed his lie with a comically timed gurgle.

Potter looked solemnly at Hermione, whispered "Sorry," before speaking. "Hermione wasn't feeling well, but insisted she just wanted to go to bed instead of the hospital. Nick even told me to only invite her if she felt up to it. We went with her to make sure she was fine, you know how frail she is."

Hermione's gaze left the floor to stare at Potter, this was apparently news to her, and the glare that followed on his last comment told him why Potter may not have chosen to disclose that part of the invitation. However, he felt something was missing, looking at the three only confirmed that, the nervous glances, Hermione's refusal to unclasp her hands, and something in Potter's eyes surveying the room. He was definitely hiding something, and both Hermione and Weasley were in on it.

"I'm aware of my daughter's condition, Potter!" _Just don't ask me what it is. _"I'm unconvinced you've been completely straightforward. I wonder if you are properly motivated to giving us the whole truth."

"We didn't do it!" Potter yelled.

"No one-" he looked at Filch "I am not accusing you of that which I don't believe you are remotely capable, Potter," he groaned. "But you _are _hiding something."

Dumbledore cut him off before he could suggest McGonagall threaten his Quidditch privileges looking quite irritated, though his voice spoke evenly. "Innocent until proven, guilty, Severus. Perhaps you three could do with a little sleep?"

He thought about recalling Hermione, but though he wasn't sure if Potter's early departure had anything to do with her, she _didn't_ look well and he could pry in the morning. No danger should have been able to befall her in her dormitory.

"Harry," Dumbledore said as stood to leave. "Is there anything you wish to tell me? Anything at all?"

Potter hesitated, looking from Weasley to Hermione then making eye-contact with Dumbledore. "No, sir."

_What a little liar..._

"Very well, then," Dumbledore nodded, looking disappointed. "You three should go to bed."

"You _know_ that boy was withholding information!" Severus hissed as they left the office.

"I do," Dumbledore sighed. "I was so hoping that Harry would trust me by now."

"You didn't exactly make it easy for them, did you?" McGonagall observed. " 'I'm aware of my daughter's condition, Potter. I wonder if you are properly motivated, Potter. You're hiding something' does any of that sound like the boy can expect fair treatment?"

"_Fair?"_ he scoffed. "Life's not fair, and I doubt pretending it is is good for the boy's development at all. Or are you suggesting we coddle the boy?"

"Will you two give it a rest?" Dumbledore sighed. "And I would be careful who you accuse of over-sheltering, Severus. I don't believe Hermione is half as frail as you've convinced everyone in this castle, including yourself, she is."

"_Excuse me?"_ he coughed. "I did not imagine my child's ailments!"

How many times had the girl nearly died on him? Hell, the first three years of her life were spent in and out of hospital, and several times what should have been a simple child's ailment came with severe complications. By time she was four, she nearly shook it, but she still nearly _died_, multiple times. Even now, she had a frail sickly disposition. Dumbledore was acting like Hermione's frailty was convenient for him. He didn't _want_ Hermione to be sick..._Though it does give you an excuse to hover over her, doesn't it? _

The three traveled in silence, everyone content to leave the subject alone. Before Severus separated from the two at the staircase and pondered aloud:

"I wonder what sort of trouble those three will find themselves in next Hallowe'en?"


	24. B2:Ch 8 Investigation goes Awry

"Does that girl need to make herself impossible to find?" Severus scowled watching Potter and Weasley exchange bewildered looks upon Archimedes's receptionless landing. "I don't want to track her down every time I need to speak to her." _Though I'm sure I know where she is. _

The stalked the familiar corridors to the library keeping an eye out for any suspicious behaviour. After the previous night, he didn't imagine any of them could afford to be careless. Especially Hermione. What the hell was that girl thinking, wandering about on her own? She had to know the danger she was putting herself in. That was precisely why he had wanted to summon her to his office before classes.

He searched the library thoroughly before heading down to the archives. The archives being below ground were still almost completely dark with only a torch here or there lit along the wall. He combed the empty aisles between the shelves, combing each table until he spied a bushy-haired form bent over a series of files once again, in the farthest corner from the entrance that she could manage.

"Hermione?"

It was useless, the girl was too absorbed in whatever she was reading. Hermione sat very still, her clasped hands under her chin and hair hanging over her little face such that he couldn't see it. He took the empty chair beside her but she still showed no sign she knew he was there. _This again?_

"Could you tear your eyes away from whatever you're reading for a bloody second?" he snapped. "I'm not waiting for you to suddenly decide that I'm worth your time! I only- Hermione?"

The blood froze in his veins as he realised that the file she seemed absorbed in was not the reason she wasn't responding. He now wished she was mad at him for some unknown reason, it was better than what he suspected. How could he have not realised? Hermione sat deathly still, not even breathing...

"Hermione?" he choked cupping her face in his hands. "No, no, no, no! Come on, love, please!"

Hermione's large brown eyes stared back at him in shock without any indication she saw him, her mouth hung slightly open as if about to say something. She looked...horrified. What had done this to her? Tears formed in his eyes as he searched her over for anything that could tell him what happened, but instead found a thin red line gleaming in the torchlight across her neck.

"Shit!" he cried closing the wound he'd failed to notice until then before lifting her frozen, statue-like body. "Please, love, please don't be dead..." Would she still be petrified if she had bled out? He didn't know, he hoped it meant she was still alive.

He turned to leave and noticed crimson letters written in a crude hand on the wall behind them. A chill ran through his body and he clutched his daughter closer to him as his breath caught in his throat.

LET THIS MUDBLOOD IMPOSTER BE AN EXAMPLE. TAKE THIS MESSAGE WRITTEN IN HER FILTHY BLOOD TO HEART. THE HEIR CANNOT BE FOOLED.

"Jesus," he breathed.

How much blood did the attacker need for that? He could examine the wall once he had taken Hermione to the hospital.

"You should have expected this to happen eventually," a familiar voice called from the distance. "But that's just what we lowly mudbloods deserve, isn't?"

Severus turned on his heal to see Lily sitting on the table reading whatever Hermione had been before tossing it to the side. Her impossibly green eyes searched him and the beautiful features of her pale face twisted into a cruel smile.

"I know what you're thinking," she purred. "'Oh, thank god, I'm dreaming! I can go on with my miserable little life tormenting my dead best friend's son and manipulating the child in my care!'"

"Manipulating?!" he choked. "That isn't fair, L-"

"Life's not fair," Lily hissed. "That's what you keep telling her, isn't it? If life were fair I would be with my son and you would be the one buried in a forgotten grave! If life were fair you wouldn't be able to wake up from this nightmare and find yourself with a comfortable job, a chance to redeem yourself, and a loving, clever little girl. You deserve none of this!"

Lily glided over to him with ease and examined Hermione with a gentleness he never saw in this version-the version created solely from his guilt-of Lily. That was short lived as her green eyes, burning with rage found his own again. "I can't believe Dumbledore still trusts you! You told him you would kill Harry, kill _my son_, if it meant her safety. He believes you won't, but I don't! You treat him like rubbish any chance you can, you would _love_ it if Harry were to vanish from your life. No painful reminders of how I chose the man who treated me like a human being rather than a prize over you!"

Severus kept his doubts the marriage would have lasted had they lived long enough to himself. Severus _did_ regret his treatment of Lily, but at least back when they were in school, James Potter did pursue her like a prize to be won. That didn't matter anymore. True, his life would be easier if he didn't have the reminder of Lily's choice staring at him daily, but keeping Potter alive was the only way he could ever atone for his sins. "If it were the other way around," he said. "You would let her die a thousand times before any harm could come to Harry."

"We'll never know, will we, Sev?" she mused leaning in close enough for their noses to touch. "It doesn't matter. Hermione and I are just filthy little mudbloods, right? After all, everyone else of our birth you happily called that years ago. Why we be any different?"

"I haven't thought that way in a very long time," he said quietly. "You already know how much I regret it. How much I regret everything."

"So you're sad about getting me and my husband _killed_. Are you sad about joining the _Death Eaters_ all because I rejected you? If there was any justice you would be much more than sad! How long before you betray _her_?!"

Severus looked at the petrified girl in his arms, but Hermione's expression turned from that of abject horror to that of betrayal, anger, and disappointment. The same way she had looked at him before he modified her memories the previous year. He had already betrayed her. "Hermione's my daughter."

"Oh, spare me the devoted father act!" Lily seethed. "Last night you were convinced she was attacked rather than the damn cat. Remind me, if that happened what would have been the last words you said to your precious little girl?"

A lump formed in his throat and fresh tears sprang to his eyes. "You know-know-"

"'Know where to find me if you decide I'm safe to trust again'!" Lily finished. "What sweet loving words to leave her with! You know, Sev, it's very funny. After all these years you spent trying so hard not to become your father you didn't even notice that you've already become your mother!"

* * *

Severus awoke with his heart pounding in his ears, and had found he had already been on his feet and holding his wand. After taking a deep breath, he lit his wand to find that he was indeed, in his bedroom. He lit his wand, and a quick examination of the spartan room that held no more than a bed, writing desk, chest at the foot of his bed, and a ricepaper divider he used to divide their living quarters to three areas, his room, Hermione's currently unlived in room and a common area for the two over summer. Not much for someone to hide behind, and Severus let himself breathe.

What were the risks of Hermione falling victim to the creature in the chamber, he wondered, and what could be done to mitigate them? He sat at his desk wondering what he could do. The creature, if it were real rather than a single actor claiming to be it, was after "enemies of the heir", that meant muggleborns and "blood traitors". There were rumours it had opened back in the forties. He could look into how it panned out then. Wouldn't Voldemort had been attending school back then? That made him more certain that muggleborn students were the chosen victims of the attacker.

_"So I don't care if there's a serial killer prowling the corridors and if I'm an exact match for their victimology"...I had no clue that exact scenario would come to pass, and you don't even know you're an exact match for its victimology..._ No one else did either. For all the blood purists' talk, there was no real way of distinguishing muggleborns from other wizards without having known the wizard's parentage. Hermione didn't know, so even legitimancy wouldn't reveal that secret, only two people in the school knew. Dumbledore and himself, and they wouldn't be easy to glean information from. Which meant the greatest risk to her were the rumours he failed to stop and whether or not she believed she might be a muggleborn. Did she suspect she was adopted? They never talked about it, she never asked, and he, honestly was relieved she didn't.

_"Your father's wasn't quite right, eh?" Olllivander observed Hermione shattering an ink bottle. "What's the composition of your mother's wand, dear?"_

_"Might I suggest you evaluate the girl based on her own personality traits?" he snapped. "She's nervous, obsessive and freezes in any situation she doesn't have complete control. I'm sure you can work with that?"_

_Hermione shrank beneath Ollivander's pitying gaze, biting her lip and staring at the ground._

_"Oh, dear," the old man shook his hand to retrieve what wound up being the correct wand._

If he thought about it, his reaction whenever her mother was brought up was always cold and evasive. That was simply the most recent time. He thought of Hermione shrinking in the wand shop last summer, shaking and biting her lip. How could he have said those things to a complete stranger about her? Other things he could have said about her were that she was kind, clever, fair, and principled? But he instead laid out her neuroses in front of her for the old man-why? Because he was insulted? Frightened someone might have uncovered her past? Hermione had nothing to do with that. And true to the manifestation of his guilt's words, it was something his mother not only would do, but _did_ do.

_"I doubt he will need anything special," Eileen said in a careless silky voice. "The boy's only talent lies in burying his father's god-awful nose in books, drowning out the rest of the world. Surely, you can work with that, Ollivander? Yeah?"_

_Lily inched away from his mother, and both she and Ollivander regarded him with pity as his mother prattled on about his unfortunate resemblance to his father not ending in appearance._

He had been so humiliated that he and Lily went to Diagon Alley by themselves every following year. After having that done to him, how could he have done that to Hermione? And she didn't have a friend to comfort her after the ordeal..._Fuck, no wonder she never asked about her mother or if she were adopted. You stupid piece of shit!_

He had a _long _way to go to make amends, but for now, he had three letters to write.

* * *

"Hermione!" her father called after her.

"Dad?" _Not even halfway to the library. It's 7:30, not even halfway to the library. _"Why aren't you at breakfast? Oh, God! Was there another attack!"

"For the love of-No, Hermione, there was not another attack." he hissed having caught up to her. "I thought I might find you here, but I was hoping I was wrong. Now, perhaps _I _should be asking why _you _aren't at breakfast?"

"Homework, sir," Hermione wasn't about to admit she was looking into the Chamber of Secrets to her father.

He lifted her face by the chin and a chill ran down her spine as his black expressionless eyes scrutinized her. "It. Can. Wait."

"Yessir," she nodded wondering if he believed her.

"The reason I tracked you down," he started. "After last night, I don't want you wandering about the castle alone."

Given the message written in blood, Hermione did feel this might be a reasonable request, but she had flashacks to the previous year where every last movement she made was either carefully monitored or she had been sneaking around like a fugitive. She didn't know if she could go back to that, she had finally come to know a modicum of freedom, and she wasn't exactly happy to let it go. _That's selfish, you stupid piece of shit. He's just worried..._

"I don't plan on tailing you all year," his voice softened and he let go of her face. "If I don't catch you alone. I'm sure you can find _someone_ to accompany you to the library _after_ your meals. The other caveat for the freedom you've gotten to enjoy is this-_do not go nosing about for the Chamber, am I understood?"_

"Yessir," she nodded.

"You must understand, love," he sighed setting his hand on her head. "When I heard Potter and Weasley screaming your name I was certain something had happened to you. As a parent, you're never convinced of your child's safety, and what happened last night made my imagined threats real. I _want _this to be an isolated incident. Until the attacker is caught, just, please, avoid looking for trouble?"

Hermione believed him, he looked both horrified and exhausted. Perhaps, he too had nightmares about the scene, and she imagined she knew what it was. Probably her in the place of Mrs. Norris on that damn wall. Hermione couldn't give it up either though. If lives were at risk...well, she'd seen how effective the adults were in the school last year. That might not have been fair, but she couldn't shake feeling that she had to take responsibility here.

"Of course, Dad," she said gently.

"_Attends_," he said quietly after checking over his shoulder to ensure the corridor was empty and slipping into French. "I know that you weren't in any condition to be interrogated last night, and with the other professors, Potter and Weasley there you might not have felt safe coming forward with information. But it's just me now. Is there anything you need to tell me?"

Hermione tried not to think of Harry's voices, Ginny's sobbing that she was going mad, and her suspicions they were somehow connected to the writing on the wall. Which was very much like trying not to think of a white bear, her insistence not to think on it invited the images into her mind like a polar bear walking across the icecaps... melting icecaps...and now she _was _thinking about a doomed white bear. _Don't hesitate, you stupid piece of shit, he'll be on to you! _"No, Dad. I'm afraid I don't have any information you don't."

He tapped his chin pensively looking into her eyes and Hermione worried once more that he could somehow pry into her mind through eye contact alone.

"Very well,"he sighed switching back to English. "I'll believe you _for now._ Don't make me regret this, love."

* * *

"Did Nick _really _tell you that?" Hermione whispered in transfiguration. "Dad's even convinced the ghosts that I'm _sick? frail?"_

"Well," Harry hesitated. "I reckon Nick was just worried. "He would have known you your whole life too right? And you know-"

"How _frail _I am?" Hermione sighed. "I just wish you didn't say that, Harry."

"Sorry, Hermione," he whispered back.

"I-it's fine," she sighed again. "I'm not-"

"If you two are so keen to talk," McGonagall snapped. "One of you can tell me which is easier. Transfiguring organic matter into inorganic or vice versa?"

"Organic to inorganic, Professor," Hermione murmured. "It's easier to take away rather than add properties in transfiguration."

"Very good," McGonagall nodded. "You managed to stop me from deducting points with that answer. Don't let me catch you talking again."

"Yes, Professor," Harry and Hermione chorused.

"Last night was a bit of a shock for all of us," McGonagall explained.

"Especially for Hermione," Samantha Sexton, a brown-haired Ravenclaw girl, muttered beside Lavender.

Lavender giggled while Pavarti and Padma smiled briefly before their conscience got the better of her.

"Excuse me," McGonagall called. "You girls can either focus or you can leave. I'm taking five points each from your perspective houses."

"Sorry, Professor," they chanted.

"As I was saying," McGonagall continued. "Last night was a bit of a shock, but the reason we are here is to learn, so I expect you to focus. Mr. Finnegan, do you hear me?"

Seamus sat at attention setting his non-class book aside.

Hermione just wanted the day to end already so she could hit the library. She needed to re-read the archive file on Myrtle. Asking her directly was out of the question. All she had to do was convince Harry and Ron to go with her.

Hermione shrank beneath the girls' glares and for once wished her favourite class would end early. _Those bitches were terrified last night and now it's all 'Hermione threw up' 'carried off by her father' 'maybe she really was one of Mrs. Norris's kittens transfigured'. _She was done. She just wanted to start drawing connections between the voice and the Chamber. They had lunch next, and Hermione wondered if she could convince Harry or Ron to skip and go to the library with her. Unlikely, but maybe Neville? No, if her father's complaint was that she for some reason couldn't take care of herself, Neville was off the table. He'd see him as a problem. Meeting with Luna or O'Malley would have to be planned...she shrank further down in her seat taking notes until, finally, the bell rang.

"Hermione," McGonagall called. "A word, please."

Hermione had to be the only student McGonagall called by her first name, and she wasn't sure if that made her stand out to her peers more or less than her father's last name. She stopped, Harry and Ron, looked at each other then her with knit eyebrows and twisted mouths. She gave them a smile and tilted her head. "I'll catch up, go on!"

"Is something the matter, Professor?" she asked.

McGonagall combed over her with her beady eyes while her lips pressed into a thin line. Her nostrils weren't flaring, that meant she couldn't be too angry. No, she didn't seem angry, she seemed worried. Maybe her father wasn't off base thinking students would be attacked too.

"No, Hermione," she said in an even but tired voice. "Nothing's the matter. I just-erm-wanted to make sure you were alright. You didn't say anything last night, and didn't seem yourself at all."

"I'm fine," Hermione assured. "Just a bit of shock. But I'm okay now."

McGonagall thought for a moment, concern and doubt etched in her severe features, though her exact thoughts were as apparent to Hermione as ancient Aramaic. "I know your father didn't make it easy for Potter, Weasley and yourself to speak up. I also know what he's like when he's upset. Was there anything you were to nervous to tell your father about last night? No one will know it was you that told me."

_Will everyone be looking for me to speak?!_ Hermione wanted to ask if her father put her up to it or if the interrogation was entirely her idea. And did she honestly think she was afraid of her father? Why did everyone seem to think she was weak, too nervous to speak? _"I'm aware of my daughter's condition!" Last I checked a 'sickly disposition' wasn't a condition, I haven't had 'a condition' since I was three! No, no...calm down. _ "I'll tell you what I told my father, Professor," Hermione nodded. "I don't have any evidence or information you don't. And...why do you all seem to think I was silent because I was nervous?" _Shit! Why did I say that?_

McGonagall, much like her father, was not the type to tolerate being spoken to like that. Her lips formed a thin line, but she wasn't as angry as she could be, her nostrils didn't flare. Hermione expected to be snapped at, but instead her wrinkled, severe features softened and she gave Hermione's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You're a good girl," she said. "I know-wait _who_ did your father think you were too nervous to speak in front of?"

"Seemed to think the situation shot my nerves, Professor," she said with a shrug.

McGonagall thought for a moment, thankfully not scrutinising her, but looking to the ceiling. "I have to say that your father wasn't exactly wrong, was he? Well, if you don't have anything to add, I'll let you go."

"Thank you, Professor," she nodded before taking off.

"What did she want?" Harry asked as Hermione left.

"See if I was too nervous to say anything in front of my father," she grumbled under her breath. "Where's Ron?"

"You didn't-" Harry choked in a whisper.

"Of course not!" she hissed. "Said I didn't know anything...and that isn't exactly a lie is it? Fancy a trip to the library?"

Harry shook his head. "I fancy lunch before Ron eats it all. We waited, but he left 'to save us seats'."

"Translation:" Hermione smirked. "He was too hungry to wait. Why didn't you go with him?"

"There's no way Snape didn't put a 'nowhere unaccompanied' order on you after last night," Harry scoffed.

"You know him well," she sighed. "Let's just pray last year doesn't repeat itself."

The two entered the Great Hall laughing under their breath after Hermione's perhaps in poor taste impression of her father's promise not to tail her if he didn't catch her alone. She stopped for a moment and threw her eyes in the direction of the staff table, sure enough her father had been staring at the two of them with a mixture of concern and contempt that only he was capable of.

"Let's go," Harry whispered.

Harry took his usual place beside Ron, and Hermione sat opposite them between the twins.

"Harry, Hermione," George greeted.

"Afternoon," Harry nodded piling sandwiches on to his plate. "Wanna pass the pumpkin juice, Ron?"

"Took you two long enough to show," Ron scoffed. "Even Ginny was starting to worry."

Ginny's response to this was to stare at her lunch prodding the almost uneaten sandwich.

Hermione wished Ginny spoke French or Japanese so she could ask her if she was feeling alright...to ask if they could speak in private. She wished _Harry_ would find a reason to confide to her about the voices. Then they could compare their "madness".

"Still off-colour, Gin?" Fred asked.

Ginny simply nodded.

_Still..._

"Thought you'd be in the library," Lee commented on George's other side.

"That was the plan," Hermione looked at Harry and Ron eating their lunches. "I take it you two are still hungry from missing out last night?"

"C'mon, Mione," Ron said around his food. "That's mean!"

"I guess I am my father's daughter," she sighed dramatically before turning to Ginny. "Speaking of, I know it ended poorly, but how was your first Hallowe'en feast?"

Ginny bit her lip and went pink before tearing her sandwich into small pieces. "I-erm-I wasn't feeling well," she admitted in a very quiet voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I do hope you feel better soon."

Hermione looked down at her plate to notice she had done the same thing, tearing her food into small pieces, but she had lined them up in three sets of three. She quickly polished off a third before turning her attention to the Ravenclaw table. She listened to Fred and George try to convince Ginny that she shouldn't feel bad about Mrs. Norris.

"She's not _really_ a cat," Fred said.

"More like a demon," George finished.

"Ginny loves cats," Ron explained as Harry and Hermione leaned in as close as possible. "Wanted one since she was little."

Hermione looked over her shoulder to find Luna skipping out of the Great Hall and almost excused herself before the bell to return to classes rang.

* * *

"I knew you three did it!" shrieked Filch after proudly announcing that they'd returned to the scene of the crime.

"Mr. Filch," Hermione used the sweetest voice she could after Ron stepped on her foot. "We were just passing by, sir." _And it's true! We have classes on the second floor, you know! _"We really are sorry about Mrs Norris."

Filch opened his mouth but stormed off spitting bitter curses to the air and vowing that he would get Harry for what he did to his sweet little kitty. Harry looked as if he had just made the scientific break through of the century. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "The scene of the crime!"

"Yeah, it is where it happened..." Ron knit his eyebrows in confusion.

"You're a genius, Harry!" Hermione was already examining the wall.

The lettering still stood on the wall, now dried, and scorchmarks on the wall where once hung stood out to her. She hadn't seen that the night before. Another thing that wasn't there the night before was the army of spiders marching in neat lines like ants. Weren't spiders solitary? She pointed to Harry and Ron. "Have either of you two ever seen spiders behave like this?"

Harry shook his head. "Never, Ron?"

Ron was also staring at the spiders, but not with the same investigative eyes Harry did. His face paled to a chalkwhite, and his blue eyes grew to twice their usual size. Was he-was he trembling? _Arachnophobia?_

"I didn't know," Hermione said quietly. "You work with spider parts all the time."

Ron switched his gaze to Hermione. "I'm fine if they're not moving. But once all those legs start moving-eight I ask you! Why do they need so many? To crawl all over you while you sleep that's why!"

Hermione bit back a cruel giggle. "I'll grant you, it's not pleasant-"

"_Not pleasant!_" Ron scoffed. "_You_ try being three and having _your _older brother transfigure _your _toy broomstick into a giant writhing spider!"

Hermione had enough hangups from her childhood that she let it be though Harry had shot her a particularly withering look. She turned her attention back to the wall to see if there had been anything else she missed the night before. She couldn't bring herself to move after she had been sick, but she had her eyes glued to the scene reflected in the water-_the water! _The water had very little movement, which was why she could analyse the details in the reflection...but it did move enough for Hermione to remember the direction it came from. She took off.

"I hate it when she does that!" Ron groaned.

"Hermione!" Harry called after her taking her arm.

"Notice anything-other than Mrs. Norris-missing from the scene?" Hermione said.

"The water!" Harry gasped. "Where do you reckon-?"

Ron's gears now turned as he followed them and pointed to a door. "It was about level with that, I reckon. Too bad it's a girls'-"

"Follow me," Hermione whispered dragging them in behind her.

"Hermione!" Ron said. "This is a girls' toilet! Harry and I-"

"Want to find out where the water came from, right?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. _I just hope it wasn't one of Myrtle's tantrums. _

"This is a _girls' bathroom, _Hermione," a nasally voice pouted. "_They're _not girls."

"How observant," Hermione muttered. "Erm, Myrtle. I wanted to-"

"Apologize for shunting me for more interesting ghosts?" Myrtle sulked.

"Actually, yes," Hermione said, and Myrtle's translucent face broke into a rare smile. "I was writing the piece for someone else, but I didn't want to make you feel, erm, unimportant. So I figured to make up for it I'd introduce you to my friends. This is Ron Weasley and this is H-"

"HARRY POTTER!" Myrtle squealed zipping up to him. "Look at you! You're fantastic!"

Harry shrank beneath Myrtle's barrage of questions before throwing another withering gaze at Hermione. She would apologize later. Hermione opened her mouth to try and get Myrtle back on track.

"So, something else happened last night-"

Hermione's voice was about as effective as a dog whistle on a human.

"A cat was attacked here last night," Harry said. "Did you see anything?"

_Thank you, Harry!_

"Of course it's about that!" Myrtle shrieked. "Well, I wasn't really interested what happened outside. Peeves _and Hermione_ upset me so much that I tried to kill myself before I-" she sniffed before glaring at Hermione.

_I tried to defend you!_ Hermione thought, but instead she bowed her head and apologized in a quiet voice, that Ron spoke over.

"Remembered you're already dead?" Ron asked.

"Y-you," Myrtle sobbed. "You're such a jerk! You and Hermione deserve eachother!" she wailed and dove into a U-bend making it very clear that there would be another flood if they didn't leave soon.

"She needs to walk through a quart of lithium!" Hermione hissed as they left the bathroom.

"Maybe dump some in her toilet," Harry said.

"Wow," Ron laughed before saying. "That was useless."

"Yep," Harry agreed.

"Ron!" a voice before them shouted.

There stood Percy, flaming hair immaculately groomed, horn-rimmed glasses perched evenly on his nose and standing at his full hieght, looking down at all three of them. Though it seemed he was so angry that he didn't care that folding his arms over his chest obscured his silver prefect badge. "What you were doing!"

"You know," Ron said with a nervous laugh. "Looking for clues. See if we can figure out-"

"_Clues?!" _Percy drew them away. "The teachers will figure it out. The detective work stops now! Have you any clue what you three milling about here while everyone's at dinner looks like?"

The three exchanged nervous glances and looked back at Percy. "If I catch you trying anything," Percy seethed. "I'll write Mum!" he then pointed a finger at Hermione. "And I will tell your father!"

"_Why _did you tell him, Ron," Harry whispered.

Percy strode away and Hermione noticed that the back of his neck and Ron's ears flushed the same scarlet. At least they telegraphed their emotions.

* * *

That evening Hermione sat with Harry and Ron as they did Charms homework, Hermione was nearly finished though, pouring herself into it when she couldn't figure out where to go next. Ginny? Myrtle's death report? Her study on voices went nowhere...there was a segment on the chamber in _Hogwarts A History! _Hermione closed her book, promised to return, grabbed her book and reread the segment before returning to their table.

"Hermione?" Ron said.

"Read this!" she whispered before casting muffliato.

_Salazar Slytherin, convinced the entrance of muggle-born students would lead to the demise of Hogwarts left when he was over-ruled. He warned his fellow founders that he would not let the school fall even after his departure and death. Deep in the bowels of the school it is rumoured he created a chamber containing a creature that will, in his words, eliminate the unworthy (muggleborns) from the school. Slytherin also claimed that only his true heir could open the chamber and separate the worthy from the unworthy. _

_Generations of teachers have searched the school for such a chamber, and none exist. It is theorised by Magic Historians that Slytherin started the threat and the rumour to scare the founders from admitting muggleborns._

"Ha!" Ron slammed the table. "Who do we know that has a family legacy of Slytherins and can't stand muggleborns?"

"Malfoy, Parkinson, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle," Hermione recited. "And that's just in our year. It might not be as simple as-"

"It's Malfoy," Harry said. "You _saw _how he reacted to Colin calling him out? And he's really proud of his heritage. And he's-"

"A prat?" Hermione asked. "I can't stand him either...but honestly...Malfoy?"

"Think about it, Hermione," Harry mused. "He certainly meets the criteria. And you heard what he said last night."

"And he looked _really_ pleased..." Ron offered.

Hermione bit her lip thinking. Everything they said was true, and they just assumed he was at the feast, he might not have. Hermione simply didn't understand how the voices and Ginny's 'madness' played into it though...maybe she was wrong to connect them in the first place. Malfoy might be worth looking into. And Hermione had a pair of eyes on the inside.

"I have to go!" Hermione said taking down the spell. "You two might be right."

"Wait, Hermione," Ron said, "What about-"

"It's not curfew yet, and I might be able to-I can't tell you too much. Just trust me."

Hermione thought for a moment before turning to see Neville struggling with his charms homework. She sat beside the round faced boy and smiled at him. "Want help?"

"Please!" Neville sighed in relief. "I just don't get how-"

"Have you looked at _Theory and Elements of Motion Charms_? It's in the library and I think it'd be a great help for this assignment. Wanna go?"

Neville nodded and the two headed out.

_Please be out in the open, Pansy,_ Hermione thought as the two made their way to the library, Neville lamenting the complexity of motions charms.

Pansy was walking with Millicent Bulstrode, playing with her dark ponytail over her shoulder. They were sniggering about something. With trepedation Hermione approached the two forcing a smile on her face.

"Hermione!" Pansy fake beamed.

"Pansy!" Hermione mimicked her tone. "So wonderful to see you!"

The two girls shared a very tense embrace in which Hermione whispered: "Still pants at transfiguration?"

"Still an ugly bitch?"

"I'll take that as a yes," she whispered back. "Lose Bulstrode and I have a proposition for you."

"Lose Longbottom and we'll talk."

"Erm, Neville," Hermione said turning back to him, happy to end the awkward embrace. "Is it alright if I catch up to you? Pansy and I just have somethings to discuss. Girl talk, you know?"

"Erm, sure..." Neville hesitated. "But is it really safe to be alone right now?"

"Longbottom's right, Hermione," a voice came from behind her with more giggling.

Marietta Edgecombe, Samantha Sexton, both Patil twins, Lavender Brown, Cho Chang and two girls Hermione couldn't recall the names of, but belonged to her house. The two Gryffindor girls seemed to be a year or so older than her. She couldn't read the mood of the knot of girl's now circling her. Cho and Padma seemed confused, Parvarti and Lavender seemed torn between giggling and confused, while Samantha Sexton, Marietta Edgecombe and the two Gryffindor girls seemed to be smiling with malice.

"Do you know what Heather George told me?" said one of the Gryffindor girls.

"That she's sixteen and has outgrown tormenting first and second years?" Hermione said. "Just a thought though." _Since when did she hang with younger Gryffindors? _"Because anything else is pathetic."

"Yeah," the older Gryffindor girl purred pulling out her wand. "She has outgrown that, but not before telling me last year that you were transfigured from one of Mrs. Norris's kittens."

"Ivy," Cho said. "Maybe this is a bad idea..." she elbowed Marietta.

"Cho might be right."

It was clear both girls arguments fell on deaf ears, Ivy and her friend still sneering while Pavarti, Lavender and Padma looked from the two threatening her, to Cho and Marietta still looking confused.

"I'm leaving!" Cho stormed off.

Lavender and the Patil twins exchanged nervous glances before looking at Hermione, uncertain.

"Drop it!," Pavarti said.

She ignored her and began precise wand movements.

"_Expellearmus!" _Hermione cried disarming the girl named Ivy.

The wand flew out of Ivy's hand and Hermione prepared to do the same to the other girl when a tight grip clasped around her wrist. Hermione stared at the beefy hands owner and saw that it belonged to Millicent Bulstrode, pale eyes glaring at her menacingly. It seemed her name didn't save her from opportunistic Slytherins looking for a chance. Hermione tried to wring from the older girl's grip with her whole weight to no avail. She expected Pansy to tell her that Millicent was being an idiot and they could get expelled.

The reality was that Pansy was staring at them like she had swallowed something bitter, her brown eyes narrowed in spite.

"I think you owe Filch a new cat," Ivy grinned. "Don't you, Violet?"

Marietta now joined the rest of the girls in looking uncertain. "I don't want to get expelled..."

Violet ignored this and cast the spell on Hermione. Her body contorted painfully and Millicent clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. The next instant it was done, she was released and everyone started giggling, including the ones that were uncertain, though no laughter was louder than the two Gryffindor girls, Samantha Sexton's or Pansy's. Hermione had to do her homework and rely on her information, but Pansy howled at her.

Everyone and everything around her grew taller. Long black claws tipped Hermione's finger tips, and a very thin tawny fur covered her hands, just enough to make tabby markings visible. She felt her face to the great relief she had no whiskers and a more or less (by feel) human face, though she definitely had cat fangs, along with ears and a tawny striped tail. The girl called Ivy smirked. "I don't know if I'm happy or disappointed the spell didn't take. I guess I have to practice my transfiguration. Thanks, kitten."

_Don't cry, don't cry!_

"Some friends, Hermione," Pansy stopped laughing long enough to glare at Neville. "Either nowhere to be found or useless! Potter and his lot aren't such heroes now are they? Though not many can be bothered with you, can they? Honestly, you hang around that rubbish and call me stupid! Come on, Millicent."

Hermione wanted to sink into the floor and shut out the rest of the world, she felt tears spring into her eyes and covered her face with her clawed hands. "This isn't happening!"

"Let's go to the hospital before anyone sees you," Neville said quietly.

Hospital...what if it took months to set her straight? What if she spent the rest of her life looking like a cat girl? Everyone made fun of her now, but it was only going to be worse! _The investigation, stupid piece of shit! You can't search the scene, library or interview anyone like this! That's what matters..._Despite admonishing herself, Hermione didn't know if she felt worse about her inability to continue, the classes she would miss or the renewed cat-themed taunts that would plague her for the rest of her life. She walked silently to the hospital beside Neville to gasps and cackles of students making their way to their common rooms. Once again she wished she could vanish.

"What the hell happened to you?" a voice in the bed beside hers asked.

O'Malley sat in the bed with his arm in a sling and a black eye. He looked out of place, flaming hair no longer tied back, hunched over rather than displaying his full height and in faded grey pajamas. It seemed wrong for some reason for her to see him this way. The only thing that seemed unchanged were his eyes. Even with one bruised. Where Harry had impossibly green eyes, O'Malley's were impossibly blue. The proud Slytherin boy tried to smile-_Slytherin! I still have eyes on the inside!_

"Other girls," Hermione sighed. "What happened to you?"

"Other boys," he shrugged smirking. "I'll be out in the morning. Though I imagine you'll be longer."

Hermione examined her hands and her tail twitched. "I imagine."

"It's too bad Luna hasn't landed herself in here too," O'Malley sighed. "If we want to keep _the Herald_ going we'd have the story of the century!"

"Actually," Hermione smirked. "That is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about..."


	25. B2:Ch9: Extended Hospital Stay

Whispering voices muttered something in the hospital wing, carrying enough through the wing for Severus to make out a squeaky, girl's voice and an boy's voice with an Irish accent. Breakfast hadn't started yet, he imagined they hadn't expected anyone to come by, much less a teacher. Relief washed over him when he saw the two chatting under their breath. When he heard Hermione was in the hospital, he worst fear was that she had been the target of the creature or attacker, not some juvenile prank.

Hermione who had been perched on the edge of her bed whispering to O'Malley glanced over her shoulder seconds after he entered and scrambled to her feet. He spied the tip of a dark brown tail flicking around her barefeet. O'Malley looked at the girl in awe. It seemed he had no idea of Severus's intrusion before Hermione shot up. He wondered how far she could hear.

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked. "Morning!"

Hermione looked more human than he expected, her skin darkened to a tawny with dark brown stripes along her forearms-no it wasn't her skin, a very thin layer of fur. Pointed ears protruded from her bushy hair the same colour of her stripes and bottle-brush tail twitching behind her, its fur standing on end and claws tipped her fingers rather than nails. Hermione's face still looked very much like her, save her eyes, which had not only grown considerably in size, but one eye was a lamp yellow while the other was a pale green. He hoped the human features dominating the feline features meant the failed transfiguration could be undone soon.

"I'm just waiting for my clear to leave," O'Mally pointed and scrambled to the other side of the wing. "I'll be over there."

"O-" Hermione started but he was gone.

Severus placed a hand on her head and examined her carefully for a moment and noticed that she had also grown shorter. Though outside of the feline features, Hermione seemed unharmed. Though he wasn't sure what he had been expecting. It seemed neither was she as her mismatched eyes darted from side to side. Though he was thankful it was nothing more than a prank, the fact that Hermione had been hit at all meant that she couldn't defend herself, despite everything he taught her before she left for Japan.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I hear and smell things I wish I never did and I had an overwhelming urge to pounce on an owl that came for Pomfrey," Hermione sighed. "So, just fantastic!"

"I see nothing will put a stop to your cheek," he sighed. "I'm glad your otherwise unharmed. How did this happen?"

Hermione shrank and her tail curled around her feet while her ears lowered as she wrung her hands. "I-erm-I _did _disarm the first one, and I was going to do so with the other, but I-erm- kind of-erm- was grabbed before I could-erm-I-ouch!" She had dug her claws into her hand causing it to bleeding much more suddenly than usual.

"I'm not blaming you, love," he said looking at her hand. "I shouldn't be, but I'm shocked anyone thought this appropriate with everything going on. There were three of them?"

Hermione's ears and tail twitched. "It doesn't matter," she folded her arms over her chest. "Madam Pomfrey says I'm mostly human and I'll be out in two weeks."

He didn't buy that and wondered if she feared their retaliation if she said names. He knew the usual suspects, but it seemed crueler than what a number of them would do. Though Hermione earned ire from people who knew nothing about her simply because she was his child. It could have been anyone, though his efforts were probably wasted on identifying them. Not when he still didn't know if the Chamber really had been opened or if it was a sick hoax.

"I suppose what matters," he automatically went to brush her hair behind her ear, realized he couldn't and soothed her hair instead. "Is that you'll be back to normal after a time. Though given everything, I have to ask-why were you out so late?"

Hermione's ears twitched again and he had the distinct feeling that the felinoid features would present a challenge to her when lying. If he could read her like a book usually, she was now as readable as a children's story-book. "It was _before _curfew, Dad. And I was with Neville, we were going to get a book from the library to help with Charms homework. _Theory and Elements of Motion Charms. _You can ask him."

"I'm not going to get a syllable from that boy," he sighed. "But I imagine you wouldn't name him if there wasn't some truth to your story. You're more decent than many at your age."

Hermione's ears and eyes fell before her posture made her even smaller. Perhaps she did lie, what other reason would she shrink at being called 'decent'? Even without the ears and tail, he could see her guilt, almost feel it emanating from her in waves. The only problem would be that he _did_ see other reasons for her shrinking from that claim when he thought about it...It was evident from an early age that Hermione did not think herself a decent person. Of the few things the two had in common, it was unfortunate that a thorough self-loathing was among them.

"Two weeks, eh?" he mused ushering Hermione back into bed.

"Assuming-" Hermione trailed off as she caught the sight of a squirrel in the window opposite her. Her pupils dilated, ears perked up and she nearly trembled as her tail flicked wildly. "Shit!" she whispered clasping her hands together, closing her eyes and bowing her head.

"Language," he admonished. "Given that you're a vegetarian, I did not expect the hunting behaviour to be so strong."

Hermione still refused to open her eyes and rested her forehead on her clasped hands. "I'm surprised too. I don't know how much of my brain's been rewired. That might keep me longer than two weeks. Can't be back in classes if I'm going to pounce on at the window every time a see a bird, can I?"

"I suppose not," he sighed. "Which does add a complication to your advancement."

Hermione took a deep breath and looked up at him, her mismatched eyes still caught him off guard. "Is this really the time to think about that, Dad?"

"Actually," he sat in front of her. "This is precisely the time you should be thinking about it. I want you to be able to defend yourself. What if it's not some juvenile prank next time?"

Hermione thought for a moment bringing a clawed hand up to her mouth. "You're not wrong," she admitted. "I plan on asking Ron and Harry if they mind bringing me my homework. If you want, you can just give them whatever extra you think I need. I can at least read."

"Nonsense," he said resting his hand on her head.

Hermione's cat behaviour seemed to take over as she closed her eyes and rubbed her hand against his hand. Severus was unsure if he found this cute, funny or alarming. He carried on: "I'll bring it to you myself. Did you think I wouldn't want to visit you?"

She opened her eyes and stopped rubbing her head into his hand. "Don't you have-" her eyes drifted to the petrified Mrs. Norris. "More important things to worry about?"

He could have shrank to half Hermione's current size under her gaze. There was a grave seriousness to her tone and expression that broke through her squeaky voice and large cat eyes. She didn't look angry, but like she knew his efforts should be elsewhere. She wasn't wrong, but hearing her say those words, particularly while hospitalized, well, it stung more than a bit.

"Listen to me," he soothed her hair. "There is _nothing_ more important to me than you."

There was a silence and Hermione's ears perked up while her eyes widened as if she were surprised to hear him say so. Surely, he had expressed that to her before...even if he hadn't she had to already know it... _And how do you imagine that, you stupid piece of shit? _but she gave him a reprieve when she took his hand in hers and smiled. "I know, Dad. But-"

"We're all looking into it, little girl," he explained. "Mind you, it's not easy with the amount of information we have to work with."

"No, it isn't," Hermione agreed but her ears lowered again. "But I really don't know anything you don't."

"I wish I believed you," he sighed. "But your current state makes you a worse liar than usual."

Hermione looked as though she were in a dream-like trance when her hand rose to her ear. "I really don't know what these things are doing most the time," she grumbled. "I-" her ears perked up and twitched as her eyes darted to the door.

"Did you hear something?" he asked in a low voice taking out his wand.

He stood to creep next to the door when he saw it open only to reveal a rather shocked looking stout matron throwing two breakfast trays into the air.

"Severus!" Pomfrey choked. "What-"

"Sorry!" Hermione cried hair standing on end. "I heard footsteps but I didn't recognize them!"

Pomfrey scowled at the two of them, her face flushing pink. "You just got your hearing last night. You Will Not. Recognize. Every. Set. Of. Footsteps!"

Hermione deflated as quickly as she'd inflated, her ears returning to the embarrassed and guilty droop. "Sorry," she squeaked.

"She have O'Malley attack you?" Pomfrey grumbled to him.

"No," he admitted wondering why she didn't freak out with him.

"I recognize your footsteps," she admitted. "Can't always pick them up when I'm normal though."

"What else can you hear?" he asked scrutinizing her.

She closed her eyes and twitched her ears. "I think Professor McGonagall and Mr. Filch are arguing again over...oh, it's definitely the Weasley twins. Trying to make out words...mmmm...now Professor McGonagall's calling Filch a-I'm not fluent in my Scottish insults, but I don't think I want to repeat that one."

_I'll have to tell Dumbledore and McGonagall not to discuss our investigation close to this wing._

* * *

"Hi, Hermione!" Luna greeted her, perching herself on the foot of her bed. "I overheard Padma Patil debating whether or not she needs to apologize over breakfast." Luna scratched behind Hermione's ears. "I've always liked cats."

_Oh, that's nice, _Hermione thought closing her eyes and leaning into Luna's touch before realising what she was doing. "Luna! I'm not a cat!"

Luna retracted her hand and apologized. "Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as my pride hurts now," Hermione sighed with an eyeroll. "I'm going to be the cat freak for the rest of my life!"

"Daddy always tells me teenagers are ephemeral," Luna said. "They won't remember this when the next kid gets jinxed." Luna leaned in close as if to impart sacred knowledge before her silver eyes widened and she tapped her nose. "Oh! you have freckles!"

"I think they're tabby markings, actually," she said backing up. "Thanks for visiting."

"What're friends for?" Luna beamed.

Hermione still hadn't control over her ears and tails, exemplified by their falling in her guilt. She really should spend more time with Luna if she got out of this, and not just to investigate or to shake off her father. Hermione felt she owed Luna that much.

"How're you doing?" she asked. "I know it's been..."

"I know I can't compare to Harry and Ron," she shrugged. "You nearly died together. I can't compete with that. Even if we both like all the same books..."

Luna didn't look the least bit phased or hurt. How could she just accept that she was second to Harry and Ron? How could Hermione let her think that? "It's not that, Luna. I've been a busy-and a total bitch," she sighed. "Look, I get it what it's like to be second. I'm Harry and Ron's friend, but I come second if either have to chose between them or me. I don't want you to feel like that." _But it's true...it's natural I'm closer to them, right?_

"It really is okay, Hermione," she smiled. "I'm just happy there's someone who likes to talk to me. Even if you think I'm mad."

"I don't-"

"It's okay," Luna shrugged. "I know you need evidence shoved under your nose, so my belief in Crumple-Horned Snorkaks and Nargles must seem barmy. But you're nice to me anyway. No one else is."

"What about Ginny?" Hermione asked thinking about how friendless she seemed. "She's in your year and she's really nice-"

"She doesn't speak to me at all," Luna sighed. "She doesn't talk to anyone unless she's partnered with them, and even then, she mostly sticks to single-syllable responses. Are you two friends?"

Hermione shook her head. "I think we'd have to talk more to consider ourselves friends. I was going to make an effort before I got landed here. You should try to talk to Harry, Ron and Neville too. They're also nice."

"Harry and Neville I believe," Luna said. "Ron's very funny, but also very mean. In fact, I think Ron's very mean to you. Why are you friends with him?"

"L-Luna!" Hermione gulped. "How can you say that?" _She's right though, isn't she?_ "He takes some getting used to. But seriously, who will you talk to while I'm stuck here?"

"I planned on visiting you, silly," Luna rolled her silver eyes and flicked Hermione's forehead.

Hermione looked up at Luna trying to hide her disbelief. She hadn't really expected Luna to visit her at all, and she expected any visitors she did have would stop after the first day or so. She was both flattered and wondered how lonely Luna must be. She didn't understand how anyone could look at her large silver eyes and be anything but endeared to her. She was outspoken, and held incomprehensible beliefs, but still...though it would make the weeks go by faster.

Even after last year, after Japan, Hermione still felt a strange warmth at the idea of being wanted. Luna wanted to spend time with her...she cared.

"Are you _purring_?" Luna asked.

"W-what? No!" Hermione scoffed. "Hear that?"

Hermione heard a trio of footsteps approaching that brought her from her thoughts. They weren't rushing so it wasn't a new admit. She then heard the voices. Harry, Ron and Neville.

"Hi!" Luna beamed waving.

Harry ignored Luna, his green eyes growing to the size of Luna's as he took in Hermione's features. He wrung his hands nervously before tearing his eyes away. Ron's reception was less polite, his mouth hung open with his eyes huge before pressing his lips into a thin line and failed to hold back laughter, his tall awkward body convulsing with laughter. Neville's face flushed pink, he'd of course already seen her, but he still found it awkward to navigate.

"Neville, erm," Harry started refusing to look her in the eye. "Told us what happened last night. I'm sorry, I reckon we should have been with you."

Hermione rolled her eyes then offered a smile. "Neville and I were going to pick up a book from the library. You had no reason to, Harry. I don't want you wracked with guilt either, Neville. You would be here with me if you did anything."

Neville nodded before averting his gaze. It seemed only Luna and Ron could look at her.

"She was being all miss secretive anyway," Ron stopped laughing long enough to ask while seizing her ear between his forefinger and thumb.

"Hey!" Hermione-literally-hissed swatting at his hand.

"Ouch!" Ron yelped.

"I reckon you deserved that, mate," Harry laughed.

"Oh, god!" Hermione squeaked. "I'm so sorry! It's just..my ears are sensitive, I guess-I didn't-I-is your hand okay?"

"It's fine," he said looking at the shallow bleeding scratch. "Nothing compared to yours," he gestured at Hermione's torn up hands. "What was the big secret anyway?"

Hermione eyed her hands...her self-soothing habit was not one suited to three inch claws. Hermione made eye contact with him and Harry then darted her eyes to Neville and Luna, hoping either of them would get the message. _I'm teaching you 'I want to talk to you in private' in Japanese! _Luckily Harry's resistance to look at her ended there and he elbowed Ron in the ribs.

"We'll be back later to today," Harry said.

"We will?" Ron cast Harry a quizzical look.

Hermione felt her ears fall again and her heart sank. She hadn't expected anyone to visit her more than once...but hearing Ron object to returning hurt more than she expected. Luna was right, Ron had a talent for hurting her without even trying.

"I reckon Hermione will want her homework, yeah?" Harry said in a voice that telegraphed they would be much more than that."

Neither Ron, Neville nor Luna picked up on Harry's meaning.

"Pfft!" Ron rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't bother with homework if I looked like the cat-girl from those comics!"

"Manga!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "And I don't want to fall behind. Don't bother with potions though, Dad wants to bring me it himself. I just wish he said what time so we could avoid you bumping into each other."

"We'll risk it," Harry said. "We should get going then, McGonagall hates it when we come in late. See you after classes?"

* * *

"I'm simply thrilled you've managed to escape unscathed," Severus said. "So you could be here to interrupt my class with your incompetency."

Longbottom had melted through yet another cauldron in his attempt to make a Pepper-Up potion. The round faced boy flushed pink and shrank in his chair saying nothing. Severus also imagined he'd said nothing when Hermione was ambushed. Hermione was otherwise fine, he knew that, but if they had intended to do something more sinister, Longbottom would still have simply watched. And he knew Hermione would be wracked with guilt and shame over her sudden desire to pounce on rodents and birds. She couldn't even bring herself to eat eggs or dairy...that had to have a negative effect on her. In the absence of a guilty party the spiteful and vindictive part of him-who was he kidding-_he- _was more than happy to take it out on Longbottom.

"Oh, I know, Longbottom, normally you'd have assistance by now, wouldn't you?" he mocked a sympathetic tone before snapping. "I wonder why you don't today! Remind me again, Longbottom. What are the characteristics of Gryffindor again? I seem to recall something about bravery-but I must be mistaken..."

The Slytherins all sniggered at this while the Gryffindors stared at Longbottom uncomfortably. He noticed the girls shift awkwardly before exchanging a grim glance. Brown he definitely saw having a hand, but it seemed cruel for Patil's taste. However, he didn't really have the measure of either girls' character. He could be wrong.

Severus summoned dissection trays and newt corpses before Longbottom. "Considering that you are incapable of making a simple potion, you might as well make yourself useful and extract newt eyes for me. Miss Brown and Miss Patil will be kind enough to help and ensure that at least some of them are usable."

"Yessir," both girls sighed moving to Longbottom's side.

The rest of the class progressed miserably, and Brown still gagged over each newt she worked on. He made some waspish comments but mostly left them to their own devices while he marked the others' lamentable potions. Final bell could not come soon enough.

"Potter!" Severus called as the class filed out of the room.

"What is it?" the boy fell back after telling Weasley he'd see him in the hospital wing.

"Try 'yes,sir?'."

"_Yes, sir?"_ Potter stood to his full height and stared at him with an air of apprehension. He wasn't sure what Potter had been expecting, but he didn't care. The sheer defiance in his narrowed green eyes, familiar from all the times Lily had a row with him in their school years. It irked him. It was hard for him to believe this boy was only Hermione's age, he didn't seem at all like her. Save that self-righteous glare...Had Hermione ever looked at him that way before meeting Potter?

No, it seemed he was trying to be cordial, but it was about as transparent as Parkinson was with Hermione.

"I want you to scrape the flobberworms off the desks," he said handing him a scraper. "I wanted to speak with you, and frankly you could do with some work given that you weaseled out of putting right the library or shining the silver in the trophy hall."

Potter opened his mouth for a moment, but thought better of it and held his tongue as he set to work.

"I know you're withholding information from me," he said.

Potter's grip tightened around the scraper and he knew he had him. The boy now refused to look at him, opting instead to stare intently at the desk, perhaps not trusting his face to remain neutral.

"Still not speaking, eh?" _I swear if Hermione becomes a victim and you could have prevented it... _"Perhaps you think you can simply solve the thing yourselves like you did last year? Did it occur to you that someone might get hurt while you're playing detective? Or that _you _might? But I suppose Harry Potter can't resist the urge to play the hero. You're as arrogant as your father was."

That got a rise out of him. Potter now glared at him, his face flushed and he clenched his teeth while the hand on the scraper shook. It seemed he was appalled at the suggestion his father was anything but a saint, or that he would let others get hurt so he could pretend to be a hero.

"My father is _dead_," Potter whispered in a resentful voice.

"Oh, I, among many, many others, am quite aware of that fact," he hoovered over the boy. "Contrary to popular belief, death does not make saints of us all. Many have dead fathers who were awful people." Severus remembered quite vividly his own awful father before returning to the years of torment from Potter's. "But you're young. Mark my words, Potter, you'll be astounded by how long-lived the consequences of a man's sins are."

"I don't reckon I will," Potter said returning to his work. "_sir."_

"I simply have no idea what my daughter sees in you," he sighed. "Or Weasley for that matter. And that'll be ten points for the cheek, Potter."

Potter continued scraping, now on to his fourth desk. He didn't look at him, thankfully, when he said: "Dunno, sir. You'll have to ask her, though I reckon you'll have to let her speak to get an answer. _Sir."_

_Potter, you little shit! _Severus's heart beat somewhere in his ears, his blood ran hot and he room turned red. How fucking arrogant was this boy? He couldn't even see his miserable prat of a father making such a comment. He bit his tongue to hold back the tide of curses itching to get out. The hypocrisy of it all! When had Potter ever let Hermione speak? And here he was claiming _he _didn't? Hermione evidently did not have a measure of this miserable little boy's character at all! _And I've done my best to make her see it...Why must your son be so difficult, Lily?_

"Hermione doesn't seem to have a problem speaking freely when you two aren't in the vicinity," he snapped, knowing that was quite far from the truth.

Potter stared at him, his eyes narrowed, but he fell silent. Rage within the boy seemed to slowly leave in waves, his jaw unclenched in favour of pressing his lips into a tight line, and his eyes dropped from him to the desk. _Is this guilt, Potter? If you're capable of that, you might not be hopeless._

"That brings me to the second reason I called you back," he took his arm and leaned in close. "If I can't stop you from nosing around what happened on Hallowe'en- and believe me, Potter, I'll be expending every effort to do so- I can and I will make your life _very _unpleasant. I _will not_ tolerate it if _any _harm comes to Hermione in your desire to play hero, Potter! So let me make one thing abundantly clear: _My daughter is not your side-kick!_"

* * *

Hermione had more visitors than she'd expected that first day. Luna had returned during lunch and the two discussed _Carrie, _now that Luna finished it. Hermione held off recommending _Koneko Mahou Shojo! _ given that Ron was right, and Hermione did resemble the protagonist. The only time Hermione would ever compare herself to a protagonist. She thought of herself as a supporting character or side-kick. No destiny but to help those around her find theirs. Which Hermione found depressing at times, and liberating at others. It depended on her mood.

O'Malley visited while skiving off Transfiguration-which Hermione resisted the urge to tell him he'd regret it- to discuss his role in spying on Malfoy. Unfortunately the older boy didn't hang out with Malfoy. He seemed to think himself above half-bloods like O'Malley while O'Malley thought himself above such prats. This would be difficult. O'Malley left when the hour was over and they had agreed to further refer to their Herald as book club when in public. Her father would buy it.

Then came the surprise visitors. Pavarti and Padma came to visit her, Pavarti with an awkward sheepish smile, and Padma nearly in tears. They seemed to legitimately feel guilty as they apologized for not doing anything to stop Ivy and Violet and for laughing at her after she'd been transfigured. Hermione felt a mixture of sadness, anger and one part of her wanted to forgive them, it really wasn't their fault, while another part wanted to tell them to take their apologies and shove it. In the end, too many conflicting emotions lead to her cat ears dropping and tail coiling around her. She forced a smile and told them that it was fine and that she wasn't upset with them. She hoped their understanding of cat body language was worse than hers. It seemed theirs was, as they left looking absolved of any guilt.

Pansy popped by to see her between classes. As per Pansy's usual, it was false well-wishes and sympathy thinly veiling her teasing. "You know, Hermione, I quite like it. I think you might even look better!"

"Really?" she asked sweetly while her hair stood on end and tail flicked wildly. "I'd happily refer you to Ivy if you want. Maybe instead of cat features she can do you up as a pug?"

"Ooh, settle down, kitten," Pansy cooed. "I didn't mean any harm."

"Of course, not, sweetie," Hermione mimicked her cooing. "Visiting a hospital bound girl just to make fun of her? I know you wouldn't do that. That'd be pathetic."

"I'll let you rest, kitten," Pansy seethed.

Finally Ron came, but instead of with Harry, he was with Neville, who seemed in a state, pink-faced and blue eyes almost teary.

"I told you not to feel guilty, Neville," Hermione rubbed his back after he sat on the foot of her bed. "This is in no way your fault."

"Snape didn't get the memo," Ron grumbled. "Blamed him in front of the whole bloody class!"

"_He did what?!"_ Hermione's voice broke into a shrill, strangled mew.

"Oh, it gets better!" Ron ranted. "Seemed to think Lavender and Parvarti were responsible too! Had them dissecting newts and telling Lavender how you would've done twice the work in half the time by time you were four!"

This time Hermione's voice failed to make words, just a high distressed mew followed by a hiss. _He had to go and make it worse!_

"Where's Harry?" she asked.

"Just escaped your monster of a father!" Harry called rushing up to her. "Had me listen to him insult my father while I scraped flobberworms off desks. And to top it off suggested I was going to get you hurt!'My daughter's not your sidekick, Potter!' 'If she gets hurt in your desire to play hero, Potter!'"

Hermione's cat-brain took over and her response was have her hairs stand on end and let out another strangled yowel.

"Which of us are you upset at?" Harry backed away. "I know he's-"

"My father," Hermione forced herself to say, trying to steady her breath, and holding her tail down. "And I'm not upset, I'm just-"

"Disappointed!" the boys chorused, now laughing.

"Anyway," Hermione squeaked. "I have a list of books I need from the library for my homework."

Harry took the list after handing her her homework.

Ron's eyes widened as he gaped at the list, ignoring that they were all on mystical creatures and Salazar Slytherin. "Are you looking to read half the library before Christmas?"

"Harry can tell you why I need those if you don't already know," she sighed."Thanks for everything, Harry."

"No trouble," he said eyes darting to Neville. "We'll-erm-come back with as much Pince will let us get away with."

Ron looked from Harry to her then to Neville and his eyes grew in size before his mouth fell open. Ron had finally put it together! Hermione let out a sigh of relief and hoped the two would come back alone. However, not only did Neville stay, but Hermione spied the distinct form of a girl with long blond hair and a wand tucked behind her ear skipping into the hospital wing. She was soon followed by Fred, George and Lee (who thought it simply hilarious to bring a pot of catnip, which Hermione had to resist the urge to rub up against) and even Ginny. Ginny didn't say a word, but kept looking from her brothers and Lee to Luna and Neville, then back to her. Whatever she wanted to say, she wanted to do it alone. She bolted out of the wing when Harry and Ron returned with an armload of books each, their faces falling as they noted the crowd around her bed.

"Since when were you so popular?" Harry hissed in her ear.

"I haven't the slightest," she said taking the books. "And don't touch my ear or you _will _match Ron."

"Oh, me-ow!" Harry teased.

"What are you two on about?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," the two shrugged.

* * *

The first week passed and Hermione had failed to shed any of her cat like features earning her another two weeks of hospital stay. She had gotten slightly better at ignoring what she called her "cat-brain", though her body language still betrayed every thought. Severus visited her daily after supper and he managed to avoid her friends each time, luckily, and with the exception of staff and students milling about for Pepper-Up potions for the cold going around, which of course Hermione managed to catch, the wing was empty. It was early for many students to become hex-giddy. Brown, Patil and who ever else was involved seemed not to make victims of anyone else. When she decided to grace him with more than one syllable on Friday evening, he thought he would see her during the Quidditch match, given everyone who would normally see her would be gone.

"Morning," Hermione said closing the library's volume of _Standard Book of Spells Grade Three._

"How are you feeling today?" he asked resting his hand on her head.

"Fine," she shrugged. "You?"

_Fine, _Hermione's new favourite word since the second evening of her hospitalization. "Can I get more than one syllable?"

"Like a cat-human hybrid," Hermione rolled her mismatched eyes, which did grow deeper in colour. "But at least I'm a cat-human hybrid that can breathe through her nose. You?"

Hermione wasn't completely relaxed, but her hair didn't stand completely on end and her ears and tail were still, for once. He looked around and spotted a huge stack of books, marked in several different places, he new she was advancing, but that seemed more than he expected. He moved to scrutinize the stack when he noted a shattered pot and soil over the floor.

"I knew I forgot something," Hermione sighed slapping her forehead. "Cat-brain. Knocking it down is too entertaining for some reason. _Repairo!" _

Hermione set the plant back up on the cabinet after burying her face in the leaves.

"Which of your dear friends found catnip appropriate?" he said taking the plant from her. "Are you _eating _that leaf?"

Hermione's ears fell and she buried her face in her hands. "Damn cat-brain..."

"Right," he banished the plant before sitting next to her. "At least you're capable of forming complete sentences now."

Hermione mewed into her hands before looking at him. "I've been forming complete sentences for the better of twelve years, Dad," she squeaked.

"You weren't exactly a talkative baby," he threw an arm around her shoulders. "So, I'd say ten. I'd say I miss those days, but I've come to suspect your silence as meaning you're either up to something or angry with me. Or both."

"I'm not up to something stuck here all month," Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed her twitching puffed-out tail. "And why would I be angry? It's not your fault I'm trapped here or eating catnip leaves, is it?"

"Don't roll your eyes, Hermione Elizabeth," he sighed. "And I believe I told you that your current state makes it _difficult _to pretend you're above a basic human emotion?"

Hermione's grip on her tail tightened and she closed her eyes taking deep, controlled breaths like when she had found herself with the urge to pounce a squirrel. "I don't think I'm above a human emotion," she seemed to be making an effort to even her voice, but it wasn't easy. "I'm just trying to be fair."

"To whom?" he raised an eyebrow.

Silence followed that question, but her tail stopped twitching and her posture relaxed. He should have dropped it in the first place, she was finally talking to him again beyond "fine" and "sorry! cat-brain!". It wasn't as if he could explain away what he'd said to Longbottom or Potter, and he was certain that was what had triggered this most recent episode of silence. Would she forever side with them? Though he couldn't help but wonder if this were a normal part of her development...he was reminded once again neither had a clue what normal development was as Hermione shrugged looking rather ashamed.

"I don't imagine it matters right now, love," he sighed before kissing the top of her head.

Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Severus took to patting her head absently as he tried to determine whether or not the girl was dosing before a low, contented rumbling came from her.

"Are you-" he smirked. "Purring?"

Hermione made a startled squeak before flushing pink and her ears fell. "N-no, of course not!" she squeaked."Okay...maybe."

"Maybe," he repeated softly.

_This brings back memories,_ he thought pleasantly as she fell asleep leaning against his shoulder. How many nights all those years ago had she fallen asleep like this after he read to her? How many nightmares had he woke her from to stay with her through the night? He didn't know if this was appropriate at her age, or if the cat behaviour were responsible for it, but he was happy she still trusted him enough to dose on his shoulder. Despite so many more urgent things abound, Severus thought-quite selfishly, he admitted-how much he hated watching his little girl grow up. It was both useless and foolish, but he didn't want things to change.

Just as that thought came to him, Hermione's ears twitched and she leapt to her feet her mismatched eyes wide, and only the dark rings around them suggested she only just woke.

"Calm down, little girl," he said finding his feet as well and reaching for his wand. "There are plenty of reasons why someone might be here, and you don't recognize every set of footsteps."

"And you're grabbing your wand because...?" she closed her eyes. "I don't think it's hostile, Dad. It's two people, one injured, oh! I think I recognize the voices now!"

The doors to the wing flew open and he saw Weasley supporting a pained, earth-covered Potter grunting.

"What happened?" Hermione leapt to the boy's side, her hair and fur growing bushier as her tail twitched madly.

"Bloody Lockhart!" Weasley seethed. "Removed all of the bones in Harry's arm!"

"He did what?!" Hermione's voice cracked into a pained meow and hiss. "I'll get-"

"Already here," a harried looking Pomfrey called rushing to his side. "Should have come straight to me, boys," she chastised ushering Potter the bed beside Hermione's.

"Didn't give us much of a choice now, did he?" Weasley growled.

"Ha!" Hermione spat her ears nearly disappearing inside her hair. "Bet he waltzed up and claimed he could fix everything!"

Potter nodded through gritted teeth."Something like that."

"Either way," Pomfrey said. "You'll have to stay the night. I shall have a talk with Professor Lockhart myself. _I _run the hospital. You'll have to drink this-" she gave him a bottle of Skele-Gro.

Weasley leaned in to whisper something in Hermione's ear that caused her jump and hiss.

"Care to repeat that loud enough for the adults in the room to hear, Weasley?" he spat.

"It's fine, Dad," Hermione said in a voice that suggested otherwise. "I really hope-oh!"

Whatever developments Hermione made vanished as she leapt into a window sill and chattered at an owl preening at the other side of the glass ignoring him, Potter and Weasley as Pomfrey chased them out stating that both Potter and Hermione needed rest. A month might have been generous, Severus imagined the two would be spending Christmas in the hospital wing if she kept improving at this glacial rate.

* * *

"I have someone who might be able to spy on Malfoy for us," Hermione whispered once they were alone. "Maybe they'll catch him bragging about tampering with the bludger."

Harry grimaced as a sickening crack emanated from his arm. He looked down at the slinged, floppy arm before turning to her, his jaw still clenched. "Was that smart?"

Hermione nodded perching herself on all fours on the edge of her bed, leaning in close to Harry. "They helped me with the article, and they were going to write on the Chamber anyway. This way, they're on our side."

Harry narrowed his green eyes and leaned in as well. "You trust them?"

"I trust them enough, Harry," she whispered back. "I won't give them everything, but having them spy on Malfoy for us is the best we got. I was considering brewing a polyjuice potion, but I'm not 'volunteering' to sort my father's stores anytime soon, am I? And this is much less risky."

"What about the voices?" he asked.

"I'm looking into it. I can't really find it...I just wish I could ask Mrs Norris..." Hermione had the distinct feeling she could understand her if she did. Maybe it was the cat-brain talking. She suddenly wished Slytherin's beast was a cat.

"I trust you," Harry said, though his eyes shifted from side to side. "So, what did Ron say?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and her ears fell while her tail wrapped around her. "Asked if I could blame scratching Lockhart's eyes out on my cat brain. I didn't mean to-ugh! My body and brain keep betraying me!" she flopped onto her side. "So, that owl was convenient. There's no way my father was going to yell at Ron once Pomfrey kicked him out if he thought I wasn't healing."

"Clever," he gave a weak laugh.

Hermione curled up and rested her chin on her crossed wrists. "I just hope he doesn't see through me," she sighed. "I also might have used it as an excuse to distract him from looking at the books on my bedstand. Trashed the catnip when I heard his footsteps and grabbed a school book...claimed I discovered the joy of knocking shit over."

"Have you?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"I _will _bite and scratch the shit out of you!" Hermione raised an eyebrow in return.

"You'd do less damage than Lockhart," he sighed. "But...I reckon I won't risk it tonight. I _do _need rest."

Hermione could read in the dark with her cat-eyes. She set to work having already examined Mrs Norris's body to no avail. She wanted a creature that petrified its victims without turning them to stone-Cockatrice was out- and was associated with burns on inorganic matter. Though she admitted the burn could be from anything other than the creature. She tried to remember Libby's old stories about monsters about the school. There was supposed to be a spider the size of a horse somewhere in the forest. Could it control other spiders? That could be somewhere to go...she plucked _Monsters of Myth Made Material _from her bedside cabinet and started reading. She read about several mythic beasts that were rumoured to be myths even in the wizarding world and one by one counted them out.

Gorgons, like the cockatrice, they turned their victims to stone. Agromantula, no petrification effects, and in a surprising turn of events, Salazar Slytherin was a notorious arachnophobe. This book was poorly organized, no alphabetical order or effects..Not even sorted by country of origin. Even Lockhart would have done that much! She had no idea what she was looking for, so she decided to read it cover to cover. She made her way through to _Monsters of the__ Mind, _creatures and ghosts made real through mass hysteria and rumours that change with popular belief. She thought the Chamber and its creature certainly met some criteria, and failed to meet others. She began tallying the fors and the againsts when she heard a distinctive _pop _from the direction of Harry's bed.

Hermione saw a house-elf she didn't recognize bending over Harry like _the Nightmare_, he was smaller, even than usual with large green eyes. She reacted before examining the situation further, and it was her cat-brain that decided how to react. She leapt on to the elf, pinning him to the ground.

_"Get the hell away from him!" _she hissed-again literally-digging her claws into his shoulders.

"D-Dobby d-doesn't w-w-want to hurt Harry Potter, Miss!" the small elf cried.

_I just hurt a defenseless house-elf..._Hermione let go of his shoulders and let out a squeak when she realized he was bleeding. "I am so fucking sorry! I didn't-I don't-"

"Hermione?"

The two turned to see Harry on his feet, his glasses askew from being hasitily put on, though he clearly saw what was going on, as his eyes now matched the size of Dobby's.

"_Dobby?" _

"You know him?" Hermione squeaked helping the elf up. She grabbed her wand and closed Dobby's wounds.

"Who's the cat?" he asked cowering next to Harry.

"I'm not a cat!" she hissed.

"What are you doing here, Dobby?" Harry asked inviting both to sit down.

Dobby sat between Harry and Hermione like a bat-eared child as he buried his face in his hands when he was unable to punish himself. Hermione tried to comfort him by patting his head, but he must have found it condescending as he only sobbed harder. He confessed to trying to get Harry to not come to Hogwarts. Harry confided that he was the one who kept her letters from him, and Dobby admitting to blocking the barrier.

"But why would you do that, Dobby?" Hermione asked before Harry could shout at him.

"For Harry Potter's safety, ki-miss," he squeaked.

"Why am I in danger, Dobby?" Harry asked, more gently this time.

"Dobby thought his bludger would convince-"

"_Your _bludger?" Harry's soft voice regained its edge. "_You're _the reason I have to regrow the bones in my wand-arm?"

"Harry!" Hermione admonished rubbing Dobby's back.

"You're the one that pounced on him!" he glared at her. "Why did you do it?"

"B-because Harry Potter must go home!" Dobby squeaked. "The Chamber of Secrets is open now and-"

"So there _is _a chamber?" Harry and Hermione said together.

"Dobby's said too much!" he squeak trying to hit his head against Harry's bed post, wrestling against Hermione's grip.

"Dobby, please," Harry said. "You'll wake the matron!"

"Harry Potter must go home!" Dobby insisted. "He is in grave danger!"

"And so is every muggleborn in this school!" Harry said. "I'm not abandoning them!"

"Harry..." Hermione gulped. "I-if I'm wrong about muggleborns being the target, and _you _are...maybe you should."

"But I can't abandon-"

"Do you think I'm just a cute kitty-cat too then?!" Hermione hissed. "Why do you think I've been spending every night this week combing over these damn books for answers? Examining Mrs Norris's body? I'm not just going to let muggleborns get petrified or killed! You _know _I can't sit back and watch...or watch you get hurt again!"

"Hermione!" Harry whispered. "Will you calm down? You look like a Hallowe'en decoration!"

Hermione could feel every inch of hair on her body stand on end, she was breathing shallowly and she was now on all fours with her tail straight up, baring her teeth with her ears angled back and eyes darting across the room. When did she let go of Dobby? She thought she had gotten better at this.

"It seems Harry Potter's friend will help in your stead," Dobby offered awkwardly. "She's very protective."

"Harry Potter's friend is going to get herself killed if she helps on her own!" Harry hissed glaring at Hermione now rather than Dobby.

Dobby sobbed, burring his face in his hands again, this time loudly.

"Dobby," Hermione felt herself deflate. "I didn't mean to scare you-I-"

"It's not that!" he blew his nose on his pillow case. "Harry Potter is willing to endanger himself to protect his friends! He speaks to house-elves as equal and befriends Cat Fairies! Harry Potter is truly a hero!"

Hermione felt her hair go on-end but clasped her hands together and tried to control her breathing. She wasn't sure what upset her more. That he was praising Harry for treating elves as equals when Hermione only received criticism, that he was being praised for his heroics when Hermione too was willing to risk her life, and had back-tracked her own healing, to protect muggle-born students like Colin and Justin, or that he called her a cat fairy. Which she thought didn't exist. Though, she knew this wasn't the place or time to be insulted, and was also upset about being upset.

"I'm no hero, Dobby," Harry whispered. "I just- I don't want anyone getting hurt. That's all."

_Maybe Harry _is _a better person than I am...__Why am I thinking about that right now! _

Hermione's ears twitched and she saw Dobby do the same.

"I hear footsteps!" she whispered. "Two people, adults, I think...I smell three though!"

"Dobby must go!" he squeaked.

"Dobby wait!" Both Harry and Hermione called, too late.

There was a puff of smoke and he was gone.

Both Harry and Hermione feigned sleep in their beds. Hermione using her cat-like behaviour as an excuse to curl up on the end of her bed to give her the best view with one eye open. She saw McGonagall and Dumbledore caring a small first year with short, curly blond hair, stiff and-whoever it was, they were a first year, and still dressed in school robes. McGonagall and Dumbledore set him in a bed and Hermione saw clear as day, a small boy, holding a camera up to his eyes...It was Colin Creevy!

Madam Pomfrey was out in seconds. "What happened?"

"Albus found him on his way to the kitchen to get hot chocolate when he found-" McGonagall choked. "He's been petrified."

"He's just like the cat," Pomfrey said. "No stone, no marks or wounds. What's this...?"

"Do you think you think he got a picture of his attacker?" McGonagall whispered.

Dumbledore and McGonagall leaned in as Pomfrey opened the camera with a gasp. "_It's melted!_ What does that mean?"

Dumbledore's face grew serious, even losing the glimmer in his blue eyes. "That the chamber of secrets has been opened."


	26. B2:CH10: Two Very Bad Plans

"I'm here to examine the Creevy boy's camera," Severus had been summoned to the hospital first thing in the morning.

"Oh, good!" Pomfrey said.

His eyes drifted to find Hermione's bed empty, then found her curled up looking very much like a cat at the foot of Potter's bed, sleeping contentedly, her head resting on an open book. Potter still had his glasses on despite being asleep as well, a book upturned in his lap, that he'd probably dropped after falling asleep. Between the two of them he saw several open books, and imagined they were reading and exchanging thoughts well into the night. He ignored the impulse that wanted to remind Potter that Hermione was not his side-kick as well as the part of him that wanted to chastise Hermione for behaving like Potter's faithful little lap cat.

"Do you think they might have tampered with it in an attempt to investigate it?" he pointed at the two in a whisper.

"No, I kept in my office for that reason," she whispered back. "Looks like they were preoccupied with homework. Unless she's listening in..."

"No." She would never let _him_ catch her curled up at Potter's feet, she was definitely asleep. Though he doubted those books were meant for homework. He turned his attention to the boy's camera to find the inside of it, film, the chamber, everything melted. How the hell-?

His thoughts were interrupted by a particularly panicked yowl, and he found the source covering her mouth, hair standing on end and perched back on her own bed clumsily putting a book back on the precarious pile, knocking the entire stack to the floor. Potter bolted up and stared at Hermione, throwing his own book to the ground.

"Whazzamatter?" Potter asked groggily, oblivious to him and Pomfrey.

Hermione's tail flicked as she tried to tidy up the books and her response was a series of squeaks before covering her mouth again.

"Why, good morning to you, too, Hermione," he glared at her. "It simply warms my heart to know how happy you are to see me."

Hermione's ears fell and tail stopped twitching in favour of curling around her in an upright fetal position. He felt a little guilt at his words when all he could see was her yellow and green eyes peaking out from under her bushy hair and staring at him in a mixture of guilt, sadness and anxiety that he did not need her cat-like features to telegraph for him. It was truly beginning to feel to him that whenever he made progress with Hermione, Potter was there to undo it immediately.

"I'll better be able to examine the camera in my office," he told Pomfrey. "I'll let you know what I find."

He and Hermione shared one more look and her eyes fell to a far corner of the room. She knew exactly what she did wrong, even with her brain so altered she knew it. She made no attempt to speak to him. He sighed and left the wing without further word.

* * *

Severus poured over volumes from his personal collection trying to figure out what could both paralyze and melt the inside of a camera directed at it. There were scorch marks by Mrs Norris...maybe it's image...that theory needed work. He mused on it for a bit. An image that scorches. Plenty of monsters and spirits fit that while not fitting other criteria. Certain spells have collateral damage, but none of the petrification ones he was aware of.

He hoped the Creevy boy wasn't involved in Hermione's little project and _looking _to photograph whatever it was. Creevy...was she close to the boy? He did see the two of them together beyond that day she asked to borrow his camera. If they were friends maybe he shouldn't have been so hard on her...what was her great crime? Falling asleep while reading? Behaving like a cat when her brain had been altered to resemble one? He thought back to those mismatched eyes staring at him...

No, he had to focus. Now that students were being attacked, they had to redouble their efforts. Until the mandrakes matured, this was all he could do. If he figured it out before the next victim, they could vanquish the monster and a few mere months off the Creevy boy's life would be the only casualty. Hermione and Potter wouldn't get themselves killed in their attempts to figure it out. And she couldn't be a victim for the creature...though students found it easy enough to attack her while he was otherwise occupied...

_It warms my heart to know how happy you are to see me?! Why did I have to say that? No, focus! You'll see her tonight...everything will be fine... it's not as if you went and knowingly made things hard for her or anything...focus! _He continued his search through his volumes, no dark spells seemed to match what he found. The boy's body offered no more evidence, at a glance he could tell there'd be no physical evidence. A melted film chamber and fused film was all he had to work with.

Could he magically restore the film? That could work...or that could destroy the evidence...If he was unable to restore the film for whatever reason, the new magic practised on the camera could tamper with the evidence and put him back on square one.

Mahoukatoro couldn't accept her full-time, he knew that was a possibility, and even if Yamato said yes, Hermione couldn't be transferred in her state. He didn't want her in Japan all year anyway, but if Potter would forever bring danger with him, Severus had to try. So that was out. Given that he failed to discuss it with both Hermione and Dumbledore, it might not be all bad he couldn't enroll her full-time. He failed to secure her a place in Beaux Batons as well. Once again, he had expected the no.

He hoped his third option would work. However, Hermione's hospitalization messed with the particulars of his plan. This had to be handled very delicately, and there was a very real chance of it doing more harm than good...

If he could take risks like that with his child, he could with evidence.

"_Repairo," _he said tapped his wand on the film, but nothing happened. Whatever magical effect it had on inorganic matter, it seemed it couldn't be reversed. "Shit!"

He took another volume off the shelf and tried to find out what spells and creatures had such effects...There _had _to be something.

* * *

Hermione was used to her father being ashamed of her. This shouldn't have been such a blow, and she had more important things to attend to. She wondered if Colin's body would offer more evidence than Mrs Norris. Why'd her father have to take the camera?! _You little idiot! His expertise is Dark Arts...what could you possibly find that he couldn't?_

After Hermione was coaxed into putting down her book and eating lunch Neville-who Hermione was certain would keep avoiding her-came in looking nervous. His blue eyes darted around the room an he checked behind him before approaching Hermione.

"What's up?" Hermione asked leaping to her feet. "Are you hurt?"

Neville shook his head. "Just wanted to make sure I wasn't followed."

"He visits me after supper, Neville," she offered. "You're safe."

Neville let out a sigh of relief. "You should tell Harry and Ron that. Harry swore Snape was looking at him like he wanted to wring his neck. So I came to give you this instead."

Neville passed her a letter with writing she didn't recognize. He still looked uneasy.

"Thanks," she said. "You know, Neville, I haven't felt this trapped since I was little. Can you tell me about the outside world?"

"He can after you've rested!" Pomfrey said ushering Neville to the entrance. "Heaps of potions and enchantments to restructure your brain and body made useless!"

"I'm semi-nocturnal!" Hermione tried to reason with her. "But there's so much commotion during the day-"

"This from the Potions Master's daughter?" Pomfrey spat. "I'll fetch you a sleeping potion, something you should have requested before now."

"Erm, thanks for the letter, Neville."

_Hermione E.L Snape_

_Great Hall_

_Hogwarts_

She normally got her letters from Hiro, Kaori and Saiyaka midweek while Sam, Anya and Toshio wrote her much less frequently than they had over the summer and September. She wondered if something happened back in Japan before she saw she didn't recognise the writing. She'd memorized and mimicked the writing of so many, she didn't expect a letter addressed to her to be so inscrutable. Did she dare open it? Well, she was in the hospital so if it was trapped she could easily be treated.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Last we met, you wouldn't have yet been a year-old. So I'll make this as painless as possible. My name is Eliza Sato, and I am your mother. _

Hermione let out a yowl of surprise and leapt to all fours staring at the bit of parchment. What-no, this Sato woman abandoned her! Left her alone for twelve years without once writing! Why-why would she write now? Hermione's hair stood on end and she hissed at the letter. Perhaps she should read the rest of the letter...but...she always wanted to know just who gave birth to her. She didn't want to admit it, because some part of her felt it betrayed her father. Like admitting he wasn't good enough, when he'd sacrificed so much already. But, she didn't even know what her magical heritage or ethnicity was...she knew nothing about herself, or at least her origins. She suspected-though she never would tell- there was a chance she was adopted, but her father hardly seemed the type to claim a child he had no previous connection to...It was all so overwhelming! And now this woman who showed no sign she knew she existed was claiming to be her mother? What the hell was she supposed to do?

She leapt on the letter and tried to collect her thoughts as she felt tears spring to her eyes. Should she read it? Tear it? Burn it? She always thought she'd leap-not literally- on the chance to know anything about the woman who gave birth to her...but now? It terrified her. Should she tell anyone? Part of her wanted to talk to _someone _about it, but she didn't even know who she could turn to. Talking about a mother back from the dead (at least figuratively) would be too painful for Harry. Luna was also motherless, and difficult to talk to. Hiro would be her first choice, but she wondered if, like Harry and Luna, the death of his father would make talking about the woman who gave birth to her too painful. She wondered if Sato ever reached out to her father...but she couldn't exactly ask without letting on that she'd been contacted.

Hermione took the letter with shaking hands, swallowed and pressed on.

_I don't know how much your father told you about me, or even if he did. Our story wasn't exactly a romance for the ages, and we didn't leave things on a good note. Where to start...I met your father while visiting your grandfather in England. Your grandmother raised me on her own in New York, so like you, I found out about half my parentage later in life. We corresponded for some time, and when I was twenty I apparated to England to meet him. One weekend I decided to take in the local life. That was when I met your father. We were young, stupid and one drink turned to many. I was content to leave him, but it must have been a week or two later I realized I was pregnant with you, so I tracked him down._

_We tried to make it work, but we were too different. Everything became a shouting match, and I'm sorry to say, but like your English grandfather, I had my vices. I was an alcoholic...honestly, I still am. That had to be the biggest source of our arguments, and I knew I was hurting you in the process, but I couldn't stop. Then you came, and far too early. You were so small and so sick...I didn't know what to do! You were this tiny little blue thing, barley conscious. I blamed myself for your condition, I couldn't even look at you. I felt so guilty over what I'd done I couldn't go with you to the hospital. And fear of you being taken away led me to insist your father take you to a muggle hospital. _

_There was an incident when you were finally allowed home during my withdrawals. Your father was livid, told me to get my shit together or get the hell out of his daughter's life. So, I left.  
_

_You might be wondering why I'm writing you after twelve years of silence. Magical interventions failed to work, so the hospital suggested I write to everyone I've ever wronged. It's a very long list, and you're on top of it. I still think you two are better off without me, but I had to do this if I ever wanted to know peace. You don't have to write back._

_Farewell,_

_Mama._

Hermione stared at the letter trying not to hiss. _Did she really just call herself "Mama"? _Sato had been gone from her life for years, expressed not wanting to speak to her again, and had the nerve to call herself "Mama"! Sato might have been ill but she couldn't have tried? She was told to get her shit together or leave, and she left!

_Addiction isn't that simple though..._Hermione thought. Hermione wasn't addicted to anything, but she had issues. Homework had to be done three times, chapters read thrice, because a part of her beyond reason told her she would fail if she didn't. The irrational part of her brain knew she would never be good enough for anyone, so she held her tongue when she was upset, unless she couldn't...then the crushing guilt stepped in. She couldn't regulate her emotions or anxiety, and not for lack of trying. And now that her brain had been physically altered...no amount of willpower could have stopped her from engaging in cat-like behaviour. And she tried...If Sato was like Hermione, was it any wonder she turned to alcohol?

But...was Hermione not worth the effort? Did she even try when she was given the ultimatum? It didn't sound like it..._I wish I had been enough to make you stay, make you try...No! Fuck that! I'm better off without her! This letter might not even be real! _Though Hermione couldn't think of anyone cruel enough to forge a letter claiming her to be the woman who gave birth to her, and that she couldn't even hold her...even if it was out of guilt.

The urge to bound around the wing while batting around something violently spoke to her like a siren's song. For once, Hermione did the sensible thing and downed Pomfrey's sleeping potion.

* * *

"Busy aren't we?" O'Malley asked, his eyes growing as he saw the stack of books beside her.

"Hey, O'Malley," Hermione sighed putting her essay aside before leaning in close to him to whisper. "News from underground?"

O'Malley shook his head going through the stack on her bedside. "Just that he is pretty pleased with the whole damn thing. Seems to think the first attack was some great omen. What of your end?"

Hermione felt her ears fall as she sighed. "I keep thinking I found something, then there's a property out of place. Until I have more, I'm starting to think I've gotten as far as research can go. How many-" she sighed looking at Colin "How many more do you imagine will be attacked before while we're stuck chasing our tails?"

"Or your tail," O'Malley sighed. "Can always find that silver-lining, can't you, sunshine?"

"Please stop calling me that," Hermione felt her hair stand on end while her tail grew bushy.

O'Malley chuckled at this.

"Just what is so damn funny?" her voice cracked into a squeaky mew.

"You're just-"

"Is this a bad time?" asked Harry followed by Ron.

"I hope not!" Luna sang following the boys in. "Do you think we've been arranged want meet her all at once?"

Fred and George must have been lured by whatever force Luna spoke of as they-who haven't visited since the first day-arrived.

_Shit! I wanted to speak to them alone too! _Hermione thought the map would be useful, and wanted to see if they would lend it to her. But now, she was not only unable to ask, but she couldn't ask O'Malley any more questions, or exchange theories with Harry and Ron. And every time Ginny came to see her, she caught sight of Harry and took off. Luna was right, there were forces at work here, and they _hated_ her!

"What's up?" Harry asked eyeing her as if she were a panicked animal.

"Nothing!" she squeaked.

Luna's already large silver eyes grew to a massive size as she squealed. "You're so cute!"

"Luna!" Hermione cried as laughter erupted from the six around her.

"Sorry, Hermione," George laughed. "But it's true!"

"George!" Fred gave a dramatic gasp. "Ickle kitty's so cute when she's angry!"

Hermione felt the tension in her muscles grow as her tail flicked wildly. She bit her lip to hold back a hiss and failed before leaping to her feet and rising on her tiptoes. "If you think I'm cute when I'm angry you are about to find me adorable!"

"Was that supposed to be a threat, sunshine?" O'Malley teased.

"It wasn't very good, was it?" Luna asked earnestly.

"Oh, ha ha!" Hermione hissed. "My body and brain are horribly transfigured and I don't know when I'll be back to normal! It's fucking hilarious!"

The laughter stopped and everyone exchanged nervous and hurt glances. Hermione's words finally held power, and she didn't feel as vindicated as she hoped. She just felt mean. And the laughter didn't hurt any less. But her anger and fear still spiraled in her head. A voice within her cried _They'll all laugh or they'll all leave...you're not enough, never were...but last year..this summer...doesn't matter, does it?_

"That was probably mean of us," Luna ventured before anyone else had the courage to speak.

"It's fine!" she sighed retreating back to her bed and hugging her knees. _Don't let your emotions get the better of you...what use is anger?...calm down._

Hermione felt hand on her shoulder and her angry cat-brain couldn't be talked down, even when she recognized the scent. It was as if her body had been filled with static She let out an angry hiss and scratched the hand's owner in the face.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry, Harry!" she squeaked, but apologies following were just squeaks.

"What the hell was that, Hermione?!" Harry and Ron cried.

Harry clutched his white face moaning in pain, blood dripped between his fingers and onto the abandoned, broken spectacles at his feet. He looked at her horrified.

Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes. "I didn't-" _fix this, you stupid piece of shit! _ Hermione made strangled, panicked mews as Fred ran to get Pomfrey. _It's _you_ that destroys everything you touch! _

Hermione grabbed her wand in a shaking hand..."I'm so fucking sorry, Harry, I-" panicked yowls after her voice cracked.

Harry moved his hand and Hermione saw three bleeding marks running across from his left eye to lower right cheek. "_Epiksey," _she said quietly stopping the bleeding. "_Repairo"_ she handed his glasses back to him. "I'm really am sorry..."

* * *

"No further luck with the camera," Severus told Pomfrey as he entered her office. "I'll keep looking to see if I can find anything. I thought Potter was released?"

He passed Potter on his way in, wearing bandages over one eye looking and quite uncomfortable, pretending to read. He expected Hermione to be talking to him, happy for company after being "trapped", but instead there was a tight ball under blankets where Hermione either slept or feigned sleep. This was not going according to plan at all.

_Sure, wait to give her the letter, she'll need time to adjust to her hospitalization...but don't wait till she's out, then it might be too late. What the hell? She wasn't going to be attacked by the creature in the hospital wing...all I've accomplished is telling an elaborate lie and upsetting her...You stupid piece of shit..._

"He was released this morning," she said. "But your daughter scratched him, nearly taking out his eye! If she can't control her cat-like behaviour, we will have to discuss transferring her to Saint-Mungo's."

_And she would have had a ticket out of here anyway! Fucking brilliant! _"_Why _did she scratch him? Hermione's never been violent."

"Put an upset, confused cat in the centre of a loud crowd of people without a place to hide and see if anything happens!" Pomfrey said, more loudly this time. "I never should have allowed her visitors. With her brain altered, she's far too easily over-stimulated. I can't believe you and McGonagall are pressing on with advancing her when she can't stop herself from pouncing on bits of parchment! The stress isn't just slowing her progress, but it undoes it!"

_Shit... _"If her behaviour isn't improved in two days I'll consent to the transfer."

He left the office and spied what seemed like the twitching of a triangular ear from under the covers. He suspected Hermione, with her uncanny hearing, must have heard every word. She would be there all night paralyzed by guilt and distress. Hermione wasn't a reactionary child, she liked to think, to weigh things at her best, and she froze on the spot at the worst. The cat in her wanted to react immediately to everything...he imagined it made her cat-brain win every time.

_You should have come up with something ages ago! It's not like you didn't suspect her muggle-heritage might put her in danger before now..._The plan when he wrote the damn thing was to have her seen by others opening the letter. He was certain she and Potter would discuss it. She seemed to confide in the boy for some reason. Potter would undoubtedly tell Weasley, and if Hermione herself was convinced, then she'd be safe, even if the more ridiculous rumours persisted. He could have come up with something more pleasant, but she never would have believed it...He spent days trying to think of something she would buy but leave alone. He had his answers prepared for when she confronted him...which even while she was in the hospital, he expected her to immediately jump down his throat. Now he wondered if she would confront him at all...He was starting to think she wouldn't last his next well-intended attempt to protect her...It was his mistake with her memory all over again...

_"I trusted you!" _Hermione's voice cried in his mind. _"And you thought playing with my mind would work?!" "Complicated Circumstances!" __You fucking prat, how much damage do you intend to inflict before she turns seventeen? If she does abandon you, you deserve it!_

* * *

"Hermione?" Harry's voice whispered.

Hermione had been curled up in a ball since Pomfrey came to patch up Harry. Harry did nothing, and she hurt him! Why? Because people laughed at her? Merlin, people had been laughing at her since she was old enough to remember. How could she hurt one of her friends so badly? Sure she scratched Ron's hand, but it was nothing...she nearly cost Harry his eye...what if they hadn't been in the hospital...what then? _No, it wouldn't have happened if I didn't have my cat-brain._

"Come on, Hermione," he whispered again. "My eye will be fine. You apologized. You even stopped the bleeding. I'm not mad...Hermione?"

"You should be!" Hermione squeaked. "You just got out of the hospital too! Just leave me alone! I'll just hurt you again."

"Oh, _come on_, Hermione!" Harry ripped off the blankets, bathing her in his wand's light. "You can't just hide from me all night."

Hermione hissed at Harry staring at his wounded face. Part of her couldn't help but admire Pomfrey's spellwork. The scratches on his face seemed weeks rather than hours old and, she could tell, they wouldn't even scar. His eye was still covered with the bandage, but he barely sounded like he was in pain. Hermione couldn't help but feel pathetic. Harry nearly lost his eye and Hermione was the one sulking beneath the covers.

"I fucked up, Harry," she whispered wiping her eyes. "I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Harry demanded, his visible green eye aflame with anger. "_I'm_ the one that nearly lost an eye. _I_ get to decide who deserves my forgiveness! If you don't feel worthy; well, that's too bad isn't?! I forgive you! If you want to feel like you've earned it then you can _help_ me!"

"How can I help you?" she sniffed. "All I do is let people down at best and hurt them at worst..."

"How do you reckon?" Harry scoffed. "Because you scratched me once? Or because you were angry instead of 'disappointed' when anyone would be mad? I need your help, Hermione, but I reckon you need someone else's." Harry held out his hand. "You're hearing is incredible right now, Hermione. I reckon you heard every word between Snape and Pomfrey tonight. If you can't hear the voices-"

"I might be able to hear its movement!" Hermione leapt to a sitting position, ready to spring from all fours at Harry's command. "Libby said there was banging in the pipes. We could start near the kitchens! According to _Hogwarts: A History_ it should be in the bowels of the school. So if the kitchen doesn't work we know to limit it to the dungeons!"

Harry smirked. "We could do that...if you're done sulking, that is?"

"Let's go!"

* * *

Hermione and Harry crept around the castle and made it to the underground tunnel to the kitchens without incident. The two melted along the walls barefoot, and Hermione found her new body was much more suited to stealth than she had been before. Hermione would miss her eyes when they went back to normal, she saw everything without needing to light her wand.

Once they reached the tunnel, Hermione pressed her ear to the wall and she heard it, the banging of the pipes. She pressed up against the wall, there was something moving inside the wall.

Did she smell...burning? It she couldn't describe it if she were asked, but it was as almost like the scent of burnt material was the scent of whatever made the noises, rather than it having suffered a burn. She thought of how to describe it to Harry when she turned back to him, his one eye open while he hugged the wall, gripping the wall.

"I think I hear it...saying the same things '_kill' 'rend' 'tear' 'hungry'_. You still don't hear it with your new ears do you?" Harry whispered.

_Same things, eh?_ If Harry was hearing that on the daily, he must've have been losing as much sleep over it as she was. Whatever it was, it meant business, and petrification might be the kinder of the ways it attacked. They had to track it down tonight before someone else got hurt, or someone got killed. Hermione ignored the heart pounding in her ears, and the voice telling her she was not at all prepared to follow it to the chamber.

"No, but I hear something moving!" she said. "I think it's in the pipes! I can _smell _it!"

The two rushed along the wall following the movement, Hermione stopping to sniff the wall every so often. She dug out her wand unsure what she would do if the creature appeared before her, and Harry, trying to keep pace with her, had the same idea, clutching his wand and ready to cast at whatever came out of the walls. Hermione tired to recall if she'd ever read about monsters that petrified and burn things. Though her greater worry was the cat brain taking over and causing her to physically attack the creature rather than subdue it with magic. Or worse...what if she hid? What if she left Harry to die while cowering in the corner like a frightened kitten? Hermione tried to put it from her mind as she followed the massive creature sliding within the pipes.

"Wait," Harry whispered grabbing Hermione's hand.

Hermione covered her mouth to muffle the sound of a startled yowl. "What the hell..."

"It said something," he said. "It said something about returning. 'So hungry, but must return' that's what I heard."

Hermione pressed her ear to the wall trying to figure if the thing would back track, but instead it pressed forward. "This way," she whispered.

Harry and Hermione were surprised that the allegedly returning creature did not retreat further into the dungeon, but climbed the stairs to the Entrance hall and past up to the second floor. Hermione and Harry stalked along, ears to the wall when Hermione heard the click of shoes on the stone floor.

_Shit! _"Muffliato!" she whispered.

"Do you hear anything else?" Harry asked.

"Footsteps!" she whispered. "Filch's, I think- he won't be able to hear us right now. But we _need _to hide."

Hermione's hair stood on end and a chill ran down her spine. The corridor suddenly plummeted in temperature and she was assaulted by a smell she couldn't identify. Every fibre of her being begged for her to run and hide, but instead she froze in place.

"What _was _that?" she hissed.

"Hermione!" Harry snapped. "It's just Myrtle."

Sure enough Myrtle was behind them, eyes behind her pearly glasses shining with delight as she beamed. "_Hermione?" _she cackled.

Hermione hissed.

"Testy kitty, aren't we?" Myrtle giggled.

"The footsteps are getting closer..." Hermione whispered to Harry.

Harry and Hermione dove into Myrtle's bathroom, enduring the ghost girl's taunts when the scent of burning filled Hermione's nostrils again.

"What _is _she doing?!" Myrtle laughed.

Hermione leapt toward the sink, heavy banging, and a grinding of something hard and heavy against the plumbing. The sound, it was definitely their and the burning smell...she sniffed the pipes, but the scent from Myrtle-whatever it was- interefered with it. She pressed her nose up against the wall under the sinks but the bathroom smelled too much of Myrtle. She felt Myrtle, every inch of air in the bathroom felt-_wrong_. There was no other way to describe it. It was as if she were at Nick's party again, but every attendee was the Wailing Widow of Kent.

"Your tail's almost as bushy as your hair!" Myrtle howled. "And twitchy!"

_Cry about it later!_ Hermione told herself. Her feelings...they didn't matter, and Myrtle was going to make fun of something about her no matter what. She sniffed around the sink, definitely that same unknown scent...or was it? Myrtle's presence threw her off. When she first came behind them, she lost the scent, perhaps this was an echo. But she definitely heard something banging in the pipes.

"I think I hear it..." she whispered.

"I don't hear the voice, Hermione," Harry hesitated. "I heard somewhere cats and dogs are sensitive to ghosts...are you sure?"

"I-" Myrtle was throwing her off her game, and Harry wasn't hearing the voice anymore. And the plumbing was old...she could be wrong. "I'll keep an ear out for Filch to pass."

* * *

"Missing?" Severus choked.

"Yessir," Libby nodded jumping off his bedside cabinet. "Libby went to clean the tidy the wing and she has found Miss Hermione's bed empty. But she is knowing Miss Hermione is still very cat-like and in the hospital."

Severus's heart pounded somewhere in his ears and the air in his lungs became lead. Missing? Did the stress from the letter cause her to go feral? What if the creature found her? If it was specifically targeting muggle-borns, would it pass up a victim that wondered its way? He threw a black dressing gown on over his nightshirt and grabbed his wand. There was still time to find her. Maybe instead of going feral she went to investigate. If she did he knew just where to start. He was going to kill Potter for not stopping her!

"How long was she gone? Was there anyone else in the wing? Signs of blood or a struggle?" he asked as he left their living quarters.

Libby squeaked, staring up at him with tennis ball sized brown eyes flooding her eyes. "Libby doesn't know of struggle, sir! Or how long Miss Hermione is being gone from the wing, but the wing was empty, sir! Is she-Libby will help search!" the small elf attempted to shoot off. "Miss Hermione!"

"Wait!" he barked, holding her by the back. "If she hears you bellowing her name she might not come forth. Now, you are absolutely certain there was no one else there? A boy with bandages over his eye, perhaps?"

Libby shook her head. "There wasn't a soul, sir."

"Those little idiots!" he hissed under his breath before running off to the second floor.

What the hell were they thinking?! Didn't they know the danger? Didn't he explicitly tell Potter not to endanger her? Since when was Hermione so mad as to escape the hospital when a depraved killer stalked the corridors? Hermione was still so little...she had years ahead of her. Would the last thing he saw of his little girl be a twitching ear underneath a blanket? What if she-_No, 'it warms my heart to see how happy you are to see me' cannot be the last thing I've said to her!-_But he already knew you don't to chose the last words you say to your loved ones.

They weren't at the scene of Mrs Norris' petrification. He was certain the two would have been playing detective, searching for clues when the whole school was supposed to be asleep. Did they do anything to prepare for the creature outside of one all-nighter with an assortment of books? But alas, the corridor was empty. He wondered if they perhaps started their journey back to the hospital wing? It was certainly better than the alternative.

He wound about the corridors watching for any sign of movement. Nothing out of the ordinary came out at him, Peeves antagonizing Filch, castle mice and stray cats bounding about here or there, and ghosts gliding by making quiet conversation among themselves. He was beginning to wonder if he made the right choice in heading back to the hospital wing when he heard the high wail of a cat, a hiss and a very recognizable squeaky voice cry: "Shit! Harry, that's my tail!"

"Erm-sorry..." Potter whispered.

He stopped. Hermione would hear his footsteps and take-off. She was okay...he let himself breathe. He was furious with her, trying to get herself killed, but he was just so relieved. She was okay. How many times had she presented him with warring impulses of flinging his arms around her, grateful that she's unharmed and screaming at her for being so stupid?

He lazily waved his wand to cast muffliato and hoped the buzzing didn't cause Hermione's new ears problems. He approached, rounding the corner before dispelling it. Once they saw him, they knew it was too late to run.

Hermione's tail puffed out and her ears nearly disappeared as she stared at him, her mismatched eyes huge as they darted from side to side. It was a strange combination of her cat-features trying to make her as big as possible while she melted into the wall trying to make herself as small as possible. Potter on the other hand stood taking in the scene with his uncovered eye in a state of confusion. He released Hermione's arm and backed away from her.

_Remember, stress makes her act like a cat..._

"Hermione," he approached her. "Calm down," he wasn't sure if he was telling himself or Hermione to do so.

She slowed her breathing, shutting her eyes and digging her claws into her hands. He once again wished she had a coping mechanism that didn't involve carving up her own flesh. He stooped to her level and examined her. "Are you unharmed?"

Hermione nodded with a tiny mew.

"Okay," he said trying to tame the edge in his voice. "Let's get you two back to the hospital wing and you two can explain exactly why you're both out of bed."

"I-i-it's my fault, sir," Hermione squeaked. "I heard something banging around in the pipes. I hadn't heard it before-I-erm-I thought-"

"That you wanted to go _toward_ the suspicious sounds when there was an attacker on the loose?!" Severus's calm abandoned him.

"That''s exactly what Harry said," Hermione tried to scoff. "He tried to stop me."

"You're what, less than three-quarters of his size at the moment?" he spat.

"But I nearly took his eye out earlier today, didn't I? He followed me to try and convince me to go back."

Hermione's ears and tail fell with her eyes. She did look guilty, but there was something she wasn't telling him. Was she covering for the boy? Potter looked equally ashamed, perhaps that would be it.

"Saint-Mungo's best have better security," he muttered pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I thought I had two days!" Hermione's voice cracked as her fur stood on end.

_So she could hear us. _"That was before you snuck out of the hospital! And to follow banging in the pipes! Did it not occur to you that the pipes are old and that your hearing is still new? Or that rats and mice were abound in the wall?"

Hermione stared at her bare, clawed feet. If she was following banging she didn't consider this. He was hoping that the threat of sending her away would make Potter confess whatever the two were hiding. Instead he stared at his fuzzy blue slippers deep in thought. Sending her off would mean she would have superior healers and be far away from the creature. He'd take her himself. And without the need to convince her she had a magical mother and that he was her biological father, he could say the letter was a prank by some cruel child. Or still pretend it's real. In any case...

"It's for the best," he said resting his hand on her head. "Perhaps you might actually start healing without these-" he glared at Potter "_disturbances."_

"Dad-" Hermione squeaked.

"Bed, both of you. _Now,"_ he cut her off as they arrived in the hospital wing. "I expect to see you in my office once you're discharged, Potter."

Pomfrey entered from her office as the doors opened. "What-How-Did-"

"One of the elves tipped me off these two were missing. I suggest you charm the door to notify you of exists as well as entrances."

A harried Pomfrey stared at the two climbing into bed."I _told _you two to rest."

"I did say I was nocturnal..." Hermione offered sheepishly.

Potter stiffled a laugh at this.

"I fail to see what's so funny!" he snapped before leaning to whisper to Hermione. "And I see Madam Pomfrey has a solution for that problem," Severus picked the crystal vial on Hermione's bedside cabinet. "I bottle-fed you once and I'll do it again. I suggest you take it."


	27. B2:Ch11: Disasters at Dueling Club

November was drawing near an end and Hermione still sported a tail and ears, but the fur and tabby markings were gone and she could handle cat-brain impulses better. Her father, who had decided after much pleading on her part not to transfer her to Saint-Mungo's, had still taken to visiting her daily. She assumed he'd want space after she and Harry ventured out that night, but he instead seemed more keen in keeping tabs on her. After the incident with Harry's eye, Pomfrey had told her she was only allowed two visitors at a time. Luna sat with her daily while Harry (who had suffered a week's worth of detentions courtesy of her father), Ron and O'Malley dropped in only every so often. She got a lot more school work done, but she found her hit a wall on her research. She couldn't wait till she got out and could be more thorough.

Hermione reread the letter once again from Sato. Was she real? Was this a cruel prank? She didn't know. All she knew was that if Sato really was her m-the woman who gave birth to her, she abandoned her. Hermione hated herself for thinking that, but she couldn't help it. Sato, if she were even real, was ill. It wasn't entirely her fault, Hermione kept telling herself, but she was still so...what? Disappointed? Angry? Hurt? Yes, she was all of those things. Maybe she had no right to be so, but she was. Did that make her a bad person?

She didn't even know if that woman was real, but it consumed her. She kept trying to distract herself with homework, writing letters to her friends, and when all else failed she'd take a sleeping potion and enjoy being unconscious for a few hours. Or attempt to anyway...nightmares plagued her still.

_I'm not about to ask the only person who could tell me either..._ Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Sato and her father had the relationship described in the letter. Anytime someone asked about Hermione's mother, her father got particularly nasty. He was happy to pretend that she didn't exist. That kind of hurt isn't easily forgiven, and Hermione knew her father was not the type to forgive and forget. The thought often crossed her mind that her father adopted her-though she'd never ask-but if that were true, why would he be so upset whenever someone asked why a mother wasn't in the picture. There had to be something personal right? And the letter would make sense...but something felt so wrong about it.

Hermione heard footsteps and stashed her letter in her copy of _1000 Magical Herbs an Fungi _before pouring over the first page she flipped to. She looked up when her father approached and casually set the book on top of the now considerably smaller pile that her research into the creature went nowhere.

"How are we feeling?"he asked sitting next to her.

"Second week of December I should be good to go," Hermione sighed. "To think I was originally given two weeks..."

"You've proved a difficult patient," he sighed placing a hand on her head. "I can't believe you talked me out of transferring you."

"Don't know how I managed it either," she shrugged with a smile. "So, you're aware of how dreadfully boring my life's been. How about yours?"

Her father stared at her for a moment, his face once more inscrutable. Had Hermione inadvertently said or done something?Why was he looking at her like that? Hermione's stomach churned and she dug her nails-which were now just nails-into the back of her hands. Did he find out about her investigation? Perhaps about her half-written article for the _Herald_? Or...the letter?

"It's come to my attention," his expression softened and he absently pet her head. "That stress makes you revert, so I've been putting it off. Though now that you're starting to make improvements, I have to ask, love: What aren't you telling me?"

_Do you want a list?_ Hermione bit her lip and stared at her clasped hands. She could make up a crush, that would make things awkward and maybe they'd leave it. If she named a boy in Japan, he couldn't antagonize the object of her made up affections. And with Hiro, it wasn't totally a lie. She could say the transfiguration messed with her cycle...it wouldn't even be a lie either. Though she wasn't confident in his shying away from that conversation as she was with other males in her life. Or she could say she had a suspicion she would be cursed again once she got out. That also wasn't untrue..._the longer you take..._

"I'm going to hazard a guess," he said in a low soft voice. "And you can nod or shake your head if you're not ready to speak. Did your mother write you?"

Hermione's stomach gave another churn and her heart pounded in her ears. A buzzing filled her head as she tried to negotiate the impulse to dive under the bed and hiss at any approaching human and the impulse to bury everything she felt down as far as she could and nonchalantly profess her apathy. She attempted to shrug and speak, but it came out sounding more bitter and icy than she thought her altered voice capable.

"If you can call her that, yes!" she snapped. "So, it's all true then?"

Her father's black eyes now matched hers in size as he regarded her with what seemed to be legitimate surprise. Hermione had often seen him so angry he was at a loss for words, or regarding her in quiet fear after she'd weaseled her way out of a perceived threat, but it wasn't often-if at all-Hermione saw him at a complete loss for words because of something she _said _before. The closest she'd seen to that was when she confronted him about modifying her memory. He didn't even nod.

Hermione tried to stay the flow of stupid questions building inside her mind, but she couldn't prevent them from pouring out her mouth as if the dam she built over twelve years had finally burst. "If this is true, what the hell is with all those rumours? Did she signal that she gave a damn at all? Was she _happy _to leave?"

"Hermione," he managed, though he still looked horrified.

"You keep saying shit about obsessive behaviour, do I get that from her? Is that why she's an alcoholic? Why couldn't she be bothered before now? Was I even a month old before she up and disapparated back to fucking New York?"

"Hermione," he spoke more firmly this time.

The room spun around her and her vision blurred. She wasn't sure if she felt anger, sadness, fear or shame that she couldn't stop herself.

"Did she really feel guilty or did she just not want me?" she felt tears spring to her eyes. "And if this is true why haven't you-" Hermione couldn't finish the sentence. Distressed mews returned before she grabbed a bowl by her bedside and started retching.

Shame won out when she heard Pomfrey whispering from somewhere near the door. "This is a bad time, boys."

"_Shit!"_ she and her father both spat.

"I was going to suggest we have this conversation in private," he said holding her hair back and for once failing to chastise her for her language. "Which I am still willing to do, but I think, perhaps, you need rest. I'm happy to answer any questions you have tomorrow, love."

He stayed with her till her sleeping potion kicked in, and the troubled expression on his face never left.

* * *

"Boys," Severus called as he caught up to Potter and Weasley.

Weasley looked over at Potter with a nervous twist to his mouth while Potter looked up at him after his eyes darted around the corridor, perhaps hoping that he was calling for another pair of boys.

"We didn't mean-" Potter started.

"I'm quite aware of your little knack for showing up precisely where you are neither needed nor wanted, Potter," Severus seethed. "It would seem fortune favours neither of us." He leaned in close to the boys and lowered his voice. "_What did you hear?" _

Weasley gulped, his ears turning a red that rivaled that of his hair.

Potter took in a deep breath, but maintained eye contact. "Just that you were talking about her mother, sir. We won't mention it to her-or anyone."

"_Where_ in the conversation did you walk in?" he asked again.

"Something-erm-disapparating to New York and feeling-erm-guilty," Potter admitted to Weasley's apparent horror.

_Do they know I altered Hermione's memories last year? Is that what they think I'm about to do? _Potter was telling the truth, it seemed the boys only caught the tail end of the conversation. However, if one good thing came from Hermione's break down, it was that she was too distracted listen for footsteps and that meant Pomfrey and the boys heard explicit reference to Hermione's "mother" being a witch.

He was prepared to go over details with her. To explain that in his uncertainty that her mother would go after them after she left, he lied to Saint-Mungo's and said he found her. That was since corrected, but it covered a base there. He still suspected though that the foundling rumours were a very unfortunate coincidence. He expected her curiosity to be toward details about her origins...he had not once expected that she would ask about abandonment...how could he not know that she'd think about it?

He was raised by a woman with severe abandonment issues, the potential should have been at the front of his mind. They weren't even related by blood, how could she have inherited his mother's abandonment issues when she never even met the blasted woman? No, abandonment issues were not solely the property of Eileen Pr-Snape. It could have been in Hermione's wiring all along. Even if without abandonment issues, he expected that most children would think that way. He just wished she-and everyone else for that matter- could have taken for granted that he was her biological father, but he knew for years now that Hermione suspected she might have been adopted or otherwise found..._But Hermione never once asked about her lack of a mother or the differences in our appearance...No, you stupid piece of shit! You know the only reason she didn't ask is because she was afraid of your reception!_

Potter and Weasley exchanged a nervous glance still frozen in place.

"I expect you to keep your word," he said finally. "You boys are free to go."

He hadn't seen the two move so fast since they were permitted to go after the confrontation on Hallowe'en.

* * *

_Safety Tips While the Attacker is on the Loose_

_The writing was literally on the wall this past Hallowe'en when we found the message in blood threatening the 'enemies of the heir'. Whether or not there truly is a Chamber of Secrets, there is an attacker roaming the corridors. The first victim was the caretaker, Argus Filch's, cat Mrs Norris. However, it was the second victim, Colin Creevy, 11, that confirmed theories that who or whatever is responsible for the attacks is willing to target students. At this time we believe that muggleborns are the target, as Salazar Slytherin's archaic prejudice survives in this school, and he has become a beacon to those clinging to it.  
_

_We have yet to confirm any theories as to what the creature maybe or how it is going around the school. We suspect its quiet and able to get around unseen. We advise students and faculty alike to remain vigilante when wandering the cooridors. There seems to be no preference in time. Mrs Norris was petrified late evening, and an examination of Creevy, according to Madam Poppy Pomfrey, 57, suggests that he was attacked in the afternoon despite being found late in the night. This means the creature, attacker or otherwise has no issue attacking in broad daylight when witnesses could easily stumble upon them. Even more alarming, it can attack and escape without a trace. A staff examination of the camera found with Creevy is underway, and no comment has been made by the team or individual responsible for the investigation. _

_Considering that any members of this paper are minors, we have made the decision not to not investigate the scenes in the interest of our reporters' safety, so it is hard to test our theories as to how its getting around. One theory that holds ground_ on paper,_ is that they are using the pipes to get around the school unnoticed.  
_

_However the attacker moves, they are fast, efficient and leave no trace outside of their victims. Do not let your guard down!_

_Tips:_

_1\. Travel in Groups._

_Something every girl will have heard before she set foot here, is advice best followed now by everyone. There is safety in numbers, the attacker may be so bold as to attack during the day, but they may be deterred by a number too big for them to handle. They won't want to leave witnesses. Travel to meals, classes and the library in groups. If you can't manage a group, a pair works. During classes if you need to excuse yourself to the bathroom be sure to have a partner._

_2\. Avoid and Speak Out About Things Out of the Ordinary_

_Curiosity killed the cat is an exhausted phrase for a reason. This was a hard one for many of our reporters to admit to, but safety does have to come first. If you see something unusual and suspect its involvement in the attacks, tell someone. Rumors travel faster than the speed of light, if you have information (see a something out of place, have a point of commonality between the scenes) use the rumor mill for good. The more information we all have the more we can keep safe. We only ask that names be omitted unless you are operating with 100% certainty. Though the spread of information can save lives, remember that the spread of misinformation can not only ruin lives, but in times like these, cost them._

_3\. Defensive Spells_

_We encourage everyone to learn and practice defensive spells. Given the circumstances, it is best to use spells that cause little-to-no damage, lest you hit a fellow student in your attempts to defend yourselves. It's hard not to be jumpy when you don't feel safe. Which is why you should focus on disarming (Expelliarmus), Sheilding Charms (Protego) and temporary hexes such as limb and body locking curses.  
_

_Travel in groups, keep your eyes and ears open, and learn basic defensive magic. There are no guarantees that this will keep you safe, but it is a hell of a lot better than nothing. Though if there is one thing we are happy to report, it's that the mandrakes are developing on schedule. Current projections predict the potion to revive the victims will be ready by April. _

* * *

"I still can't believe you advocated for the use of a rumor mill!" O'Malley laughed. "Figured a teacher's daughter would want them to report it to the teachers!"

Hermione rolled her eyes taking the paper from him. "As a teacher's daughter I know how useless grown-ups really are!"

"Do we have trust issues, sunshine?" O'Malley smirked.

"No, of course not!" Hermione rolled her eyes again.

Luna laughed now scratching behind Hermione's ear. "I think the piece was good. I intend on following all of your advice. Sad my piece on Gwynryphinks didn't get much attention, though."

"This is important, Luna," Hermione said. "It could keep someone safe."

"Gwynryphinks are important too," Luna stated matter-of-fact voice. "Both can be important, you know."

Hermione didn't bother asking if this was the right time. She wasn't going to try and get into an argument. Which she felt it would turn to if she pressed. Luna was unusual, and Hermione was fine living with it until it did get someone hurt. And she didn't see that happening soon. _Swallow your frustration. Dad would snap at her, I won't..._

"I'm surprised you left out so much," O'Malley mused. "Didn't you research scores while stuck here."

"My father would shut us down if that I published anything more," she sighed."And after catching us in the library, I'm not entirely confident that he's still ignorant to your involvement. I figured that's why you stuck to articles on puff pieces and fic-erm-magical creatures. Besides there's nothing solid."

"You don't need it to be air-tight," Luna mused. "You're not one-hundred percent sure of the pipes, are you?"

Hermione felt blush rise in her cheeks and she looked away remembering both Harry and her father's remarks that night. "No," she sighed.

"It's a gut feeling right?" Luna pressed on happily. "Journalistic instinct?"

"Cat ears," she admitted. "I'm _really _going to miss the enhanced hearing...but the pipes are old. I almost didn't say anything...but on the off chance I'm right, I should let people know right?"

"On the plus side," Luna beamed. "If he does get after you you won't have to talk to him about your mother!"

"Luna!" Hermione choked. "How did you-How?"

Luna's pale skin flushed a rare pink and her silver eyes darted from Hermione's bedside cabinet to her with a nervous smile. "It was a book mark in your copy of _1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_...Should I not have told you that? Maybe I shouldn't have told you that."

"Way to go, Looney," O'Malley rolled his eyes.

"Don't call her that," Hermione groaned. "And I've been avoiding that conversation just fine without incurring his wrath, thank you very much."

An uncomfortable silence passed between the three and Hermione decided she'd rather not ask if Luna had the sense not to read the entire letter. She turned to O'Malley. "I don't take it you have any news for me?"

"None," he admitted. "Elusive as always."

Hermione would have to find another way to investigate Malfoy if O'Malley still couldn't get past 'Malfoy is happy'...

* * *

"Silence," Severus said.

Hermione abandoned whatever argument she had constructed and shut her mouth, staring at him her cat features betraying apprehension.

Pomfrey had been kind enough to lend her office after the disastrous attempt at a conversation about the mother he'd conjured.

"This..." he began. "Stupid, moronic, reckless...I told you I would ignore this silly little project of yours if you stayed out of danger. I told you not to get mixed up in the chamber, and you did! Is this some kind of game to you?"

Hermione opened her mouth again holding her tail in place.

"I believe I asked you to be silent!" he snapped.

She just _had_ to go and do something this stupid! It had been a week since his plan to conjure a magical mother for Hermione blew up in his face, and she had been content to pretend it never happened. He gave her space when she asked, and now it seemed she used that space to advocate for students to be suspicious of each other and circulating her groundless theories.

"I told you the pipes were old. This is going to get someone hurt! And advocating students whisper and gossip among each other instead of reporting suspicions to us? The people who actually have the ability to do something about it! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I-erm-" she squeaked. "I thought if there was a chance I might have heard the creature that night, that I had a duty to inform people how it might be getting around unseen. I did say it was only a theory."

"And that hardly undoes the damage of asking students to 'use the rumor mill for good'. Since you're too damn naive to know this, I'll tell you, your pleas to have names omitted _will_ fall on deaf ears. And the advice that they use spells-"

"Like the ones _you _advised I used in Japan if I got separated?" Hermione hissed.

"Silence! _Don't _interrupt me again, Hermione Elizabeth," he seethed. "And that was completely different! You stoked panic. There'll now be hundreds of paranoid underage wizards throwing spells at each other by accident and others will take advantage of the panic _you _created to hex their peers. How-after being put in the fucking hospital for a month and a half-could you not think of that? You reckless little fool!"

"It isn't-"

"Si-lence," he said slowly. "The damage is done. Your little friends seem to be keeping within acceptable parameters, but this is your last article. If you can call this tripe that. And don't think that anonymity will help you. Just by reading this I can tell-quidditch match review was Fred Weasley, articles on clubs were a-I imagine at least- reluctant O'Malley, and I believe Miss Lovegood is responsible for the more, shall we say unconventional articles."

Hermione stared at him nearly choking.

"Yes, it's amazing what one can figure out if they put forth the least bit of effort, isn't it?" he said. "And it just so happens that I read things you write every damn week. I would be surprised if even Lockhart hasn't figured it out by now! Well, I hope you've enjoyed what freedom you had before you were admitted, because you're spending your first week released helping me with inventory for next term."

Hermione nodded silently.

"Anything else you'd like to tell me or would you rather wait until I have a fucking aneurysm?"

Hermione shook her head, again, in silence...the silence he ordered.

_Shit!_

* * *

Hermione gathered her books and letters into her bag after changing into her school robes. Finally she would be released! Examining her reflection she looked much less like the protagonist in Hiro's favourite manga. She lost her tail and claws, her ears were normal sized, in their normal spot, and while covered with her hair, no one could see the sharp points they came to. Her hearing and sight were still better than it was pre-cat form, but nowhere as good as it had been, and her sense of smell had completely gone back to normal. She'd miss that. And the ease of movement and balance her new body had given her. But she was finally out-on the orders she come back once a week, take a daily potion and avoid "overexertion"-but she was out! And she couldn't wait to take classes, casts spells without tutting from Pomfrey, and enact her new plan to spy on Malfoy.

She couldn't be too excited about it, lest her father figured it out, but his punishment gave her the perfect opportunity. All she needed was permission to sign-out _Potions__ Moste Potente. _Forging wouldn't work, if her father found out, there had to be an actual teacher behind it.

"But where are you going to find a teacher stupid enough to do that?" Ron asked under his breath after Hermione told them her plan in the common room.

Harry looked as though he had been hit with a sudden brain wave and he closed his copy of _Gadding with Ghouls__. _"I have a very bad idea."

"It's not bad, Harry!" Hermione said taking his meaning. "It's brilliant! That man will sign anything!"

"_Lockhart_?" Ron gimaced. "Hermione, if your decision to get a real teacher to sign it is to shake off Snape, maybe don't get permission from the one he hates the most?"

"Got a better idea?" Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Besides I already have a story for if I'm asked. 'If I don't have a complete understanding of how these venoms interact Lockhart's going to fail me! The only thing that will save me from that is if I have an _intimate_ understanding of slow acting venoms and how they pertain to Ghouls.'"

"Isn't he already tutoring you for your advancement?" Harry ventured. "Ron might be right."

Hermione could see his retorts as Harry brought that little detail to light. _Calm down, you're not going to_ _fail_. Potions Moste Potente?_ I believe Potions is _my _subject? I'm more than happy to go over slow acting venoms with you, love. No need for that nasty book. Unless you wanted it for some other reason? But you wouldn't be up to something so soon after being caught, would you? _They were right. One of them had to do it.

"If I write you a script, can you memorize it, Harry?" Hermione asked. "You _are _his favourite student."

"Hermione," Harry now grimaced. He was none to keen to spend anytime with Lockhart.

"_Please," _she pleaded, clasping her hands and leaning very close to him. "I'll owe you one!"

"Just-erm-" Harry sighed. "Don't put too much flattery in the script. And you do owe me, _big time._"

"Hate Lockhart that much, eh?" Hermione nervously laughed. "I'll-erm-see what I can do."

* * *

"Harry!" Lockhart beamed once he approached.

Ron and Hermione hung back, and Hermione prayed he remembered her script. Though she was more afraid he'd take liberties with the flattery she did involve. It was much less than she had planned to use if she asked him herself, Harry was his favourite, he was playing on easy mode.

"Hi, Professor," he said with an unconvincing smile. "Is it alright if I ask you something?"

"Of course, my dear boy!" Lockhart nearly jumped from his seat. "What can I help you with? Fame? Advice?" his blue eyes ventured to Hermione and she heard him whisper in Harry's ear. "Girls?"

_Your his teacher, not his father..._ she felt embarrassment for Harry, her empathy assisted by her own experience of McGonagall's failed attempts at conversations that Hermione 'ought to have with a woman'.

"Oh, it's nothing like that, Professor," Harry said turning a bright pink and casting Hermione a mutinous glare. "There's this book you see-erm-in the restricted section. You talk about slow-acting venoms in _Gadding with Ghouls. _I thought the book would really help me understand it before the essay was due. It was amazing how you used a tea-strainer with that one in Essex! You must have an incredible understanding of venoms yourself?"

"Well," he chuckled. "These things do come with experience and a bit of genius, if I dare say so myself."

"A bit of genius? You're incredible, Professor," Harry forced through gritted teeth, now burning Hermione with his gaze.

Lockhart, thankfully, did not pick up on this. "Due time, Harry, in due time."

"Which is why I'd like to start with that book, sir," he said.

"Yes, of course, I'd love to sign it," he grabbed his peacock quill. "I usually only use this quill for autographs, but I can certainly make an exception for my favourite student." he leaned in to whisper again. "This extra research isn't to impress your little bushy-haired friend, is it?"

"No," he said firmly.

"He must be really stupid," Hermione mused once they were safely out of earshot. "For someone who lies so much, you're a _terrible _actor, Harry."

"And you're a terrible script writer!" Harry snapped. "'You're incredible, Professor!' What happened to being light on the flattery?"

"Trust me," Hermione scowled. "If Ron or I did it, we'd have to feed his insatiable ego even more. My plan was to pretend Ron or I had a crush on him, so be thankful I didn't take that route with you!"

"Harry and I are boys, Hermione," Ron groaned.

"So?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Speaking of, " Harry hissed. "If he lets slip that he thinks I have a crush on you, I swear to God, Hermione!"

"_Look _at me, Harry," Hermione gestured up and down her whole body. "_Nobody_ would believe it."

"You're not _that_ bad," Ron said. "Like a six-out-of-ten. So it isn't impossible someone might like you. You have nice eyes when they match."

"_Ron!_" both Harry and Hermione snapped.

"What?"

* * *

"What are you hiding from me?" Severus brushing Hermione's hair behind her pointed ear.

Hermione looked up at him with eyes still mismatched; the one that had been yellow deepened to an amber and the green one was now hazel. He wondered what effects she might still be suffering from mentally. He also noted her voice hadn't changed back to normal either. He saw apprehension, but Hermione had much to be apprehensive about. And either despite everything he had done to her, or perhaps because of it, he didn't feel right rooting around in her mind for answers. As always, if it meant her safety, he would do it, but legillimency was a last resort.

"I just-have a lot on my mind," she sighed looking at her feet. "Sorry, I'll focus."

"Is it about your mother?" he asked guilt rising within him. _What _have _I done? This was cruel and stupid from the start..._

Hermione bit her lip and kept her eyes glued to the floor still.

_Congratulations, Severus, you've destroyed your daughter!_

"Listen," he lifted her face. "It's abundantly clear that this is still on your mind, but you don't want to talk about it. So, I'll make this as painless as possible. Your mother's problems are her own. Anything she has done is on her. You had nothing to do with her leaving, and you are _not_ destined to inherit her problems."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. She simply nodded.

"Are you..." he hesitated. "Okay?"

Hermione bit her lip again and focused her hands on her clasped hands. "Fine," she squeaked. "I'm fine."

"Even without the ears and tail," he sighed. "You are a terrible little liar. But I'll drop it if that's what you really want." _Did you really think you'd get to absolve your guilt so easily? _

"Please," she nearly whispered.

"Very well," he sighed. "And here I thought-" _Don't, you stupid piece of shit. _"Never mind. Shall we start?"

"Yessir," she nodded, but not before he saw guilt flash across her face.

The two worked away counting his stores in almost complete silence. Hermione giving numbers of ingredients or other supplies, every now and then for him to record while he wondered if his relationship with his daughter was all down hill from there. Though he'd fucked up worse and thought the same before...

"Your more feline impulses," he said after they'd finished the public stores."Are they managed?"

"Yessir," she said while trying not to let a nearby moth distract her.

"Indeed, they seem so," he sighed. "Though I don't seem to recall your focus being so easily taken by something colourful and fluttering."

"Residual effects," she mumbled with an eye roll.

"Though the mumbling is in character for you," he set a hand on her head. "And we have talked about the eyerolling, Hermione Elizabeth."

"I get some flashes," she admitted. "but I don't act on the impulses. Why do you ask?"

"The Headmaster believes, and I agree with him, that it might be best if we instated a dueling club during these times. Teach students how to cope with a human opponent. _However,_" he poked her forehead lightly. "I'm of two minds. I want you to be equipped for such an attack, but if the stress of simulated combat triggers your 'cat-brain' as you call it, it'd be irresponsible of me to demand you show if you're going to attempt to take out your partner's eye."

Hermione clasped her hands together and stared at them, he wasn't sure, but he wouldn't be surprised if she was thinking of Potter. From her account the boy simply put his hand on her shoulder. How would she respond to an actual threat? And, did he _really _care if attending could somehow prepare her for attacks?

"You haven't bitten anyone yet, and you've lost your claws," he sighed. "The damage you could potentially do is outweighed by the benefit. You'll go."

Hermione risked making eye contact, mismatched eyes wide in surprise as her face. "But you said-Dad, what if I hurt someone?"

"Pair yourself with one of those who attacked you then," he suggested. "If a group of students can successfully attack you, you're vulnerable."

Hermione made a strained mew before attempting to even her voice. "_Anyone _would be vulnerable to eight on one, Dad."

"_Eight_?" he let the number sit in the air.

"Eight."

Eight, when he was her age he had often been ambushed in a four-on-one fight, which he had never had any chance to win. He had thought there were three, but eight, she probably didn't have the choice to react before they were upon her. He knew Hermione attracted ire simply for being his child, but to be okay with eight on one...

"Everyone either hates me or feels sorry for me," Hermione scoffed uncomfortably crossing her arms and trying-and failing-to sound unphased. "Almost at least. I've expected something like this to happen since I enrolled and it'll happen again. It's-it's fine."

"Fine?" he rubbed his temples. "Hermione, these people-whom you refuse to name- _altered_ _your brain._ How is that fine?"

Hermione didn't have an answer to this, she merely buried her face in her hands and let out a long sigh. "I don't know..." she admitted. "But I can't go and make things worse. And I don't want to hurt anyone if you think that's a possibility."

"I certainly don't see any reason you should lose sleep over it," he said. _How are you both so complacent and so stubborn__? _"You're going."

"Yessir," she nodded.

* * *

"Professor Snape has agreed to assist me in our little venture tonight," Lockhart beamed throwing an unwelcomed arm around his shoulders.

Hermione looked at her father and determined the man looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. A small vindictive part of her enjoyed that they were both stuck there. This "Dueling Club" was going to be a complete disaster.

"How'd Lockhart get Snape to agree to that?" Harry whispered in her ear.

"Dumbledore's idea," Hermione said. "Bet he makes a fool of Lockhart and Lockhart brushes it off as 'letting him get one in for educational purposes'."

"Pfft," Ron scoffed. "Look at the way Lockhart's smiling at him. I reckon he puts him in the hospital wing for that."

Hermione rolled her eyes "And get himself sacked? I don't think so. Eighty-seven percent chance he uses a disarming spell. Thirteen a silencing one!"

"Silencing? Can you teach me that one?" Ron asked excitedly. "I can't wait to cast it on that git."

Hermione bit her lip unsure whether to laugh or admonish him. Or which git he meant.

"Silence," her father said to the mass of muttering students after freeing himself. "You won't find this beneficial if you don't pay attention."

The two professors had everyone's undivided attention. They bowed to each other, making Hermione think of Kendo, before sweeping off ten paces away from the other. She watched as Lockhart drew his wand with a flourish, while her father simply drew his and shouted "_Expelliarmus!"_ Which not only caused the wand to fly out of Lockhart's hand, but sent him flying half way across the Great Hall.

"Think he's okay?" Hermione said rising to her tip toes.

"Who cares?" Ron rolled his eyes. "But it sent him flying so you were wrong!"

"That," her father called above the gasps and whispers. "Was a disarming spell. You should find it very useful and will be unlikely to harm your fellow students. Should they have steady footing." he added helping Lockhart to his feet.

"Ah, yes," Lockhart smiled at the students with his usual pompous swagger. "I thought it would be most helpful if the students saw what it was like to be hit by such a spell."

"You're a genius, Hermione," Harry whispered in her ear.

_Genius..._Still not used to compliments she felt an annoying flush warm her cheeks. "Thanks," she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Perhaps," her father glared at his opponent. "It would be better to show the students how to _block_ harmful spells?"

Sniggering filled the hall, but Seamus raised his hand.

"Mr. Finnegan appears to have a question," her father's lip curled. "Perhaps you could field it?"

"Ah, yes," Lockhart nodded, still smiling. "Go ahead, Seamus."

"The _Hogwarts Herald _article about safety tips mentioned _Protego _as a Shielding Charm. Is that one real?"

"Erm-" Lockhart played with a lock of hair. "I wouldn't put too much stock in that stupid little gossip paper, Seamus. Just a case of a bitter student with little talent or wit spreading misinformation. The author of that article-"

"Was terribly misguided in much of his _or her_ most recent piece," her father nearly snarled at Lockhart.

Hermione didn't think she had ever seen her father so angry at another teacher that wasn't attempting to revive Voldemort. His fists clenched at his sides and he continued through gritted teeth. _  
_

"However, the author's misguided attempts at advice they are _not _qualified to give, the advice that you learn defensive magic was correct. The Shielding Charm is indeed _Protego._" He threw a stone overhead, then waved his wand over his head creating an invisible shield which the rock bounced off. "And it's cast like so. We are going to divide you into pairs. If there is an odd number Professor Lockhart or myself will pair with the straggler."

Her father stalked his way over to the three of them. He no longer appeared livid, but there was still a trace of the flame in his black eyes. She wondered if he was going to take his frustrations with Lockhart on Harry. However she couldn't make out how she felt about the situation. He'd just defended her while simultaneously calling her out. And potentially outed the author's gender to the entire student body. Would his defence make Hermione the obvious suspect?

"I think it's best if we split up the Golden Trio," he mused. "Weasley! I want you with Finnegan," he pointed to Seamus.

Ron gave a nervous glance over to Harry, but obeyed, teaming up with a Seamus who had given Dean the 'I'm sorry, mate' look.

Harry crept closer to Hermione and Hermione was certain her father could curdle Harry's blood with his gaze. "Not while I draw breath, Potter."

"I wanted to partner with her for a dueling exercise, not marry her," Harry seethed.

_I knew this was going to be a disaster!_ Hermione covered her eyes and looked down after giving an exasperated sigh.

"As evidenced by the fact that _you _still draw breath," her father said. "Ten points for the cheek, I think. Now who will-Ah, yes," he looked over to a cluster of Slytherins including Malfoy and smirked. "Draco, why don't we see what you can make of the great Harry Potter?"

Malfoy sauntered over to Harry with an evil smirk on his face, certainly thinking he could-in her father's words- "see what he could make of the great Harry Potter." Hermione hoped Malfoy made a fool of himself. She saw non-approved offensive spells being exchanged between those two idiots and muttered beneath her breath : "They will kill each other."

"Doubtful," her father didn't bother to lower his voice. "I do wonder if there is an even number of you...Perhaps it's best if you-"

"Millicent doesn't have a partner!" Hermione pointed at the large girl looking betrayed as Pansy paired with another Slytherin girl Hermione didn't know the name of.

"Hermione," he said slowly. "I doubt that will go well. She's older than you."

"You're advancing me two years," she replied calmly. "So we'll be peers."

"She's twice your size."

"It's a good thing we're fighting with magic," she retorted.

"What happened to your concern about hurting one of your peers?" he raised an eyebrow.

"She's an eighth of those you don't see why I should lose sleep over hurting," Hermione admitted wondering if his vindictive nature would allow her to pair with her.

"And you _want _to partner with the girl who attacked you?"

"_You_ suggested it," she shrugged. "And frankly, I'm not sure you can give me a single reason-other than the fact that I'm your daughter-not to partner the two last women standing."

"Fine," he seethed. "Miss Bulstrode!" he called before whispering in her ear. "Must you always use my own words against me?"

"I've learned from the best," she cast him a meaningful glance.

* * *

_Just get close enough to grab her hair...easy._

Millicent was more than twice Hermione's size, and narrowed her dark eyes on Hermione. It was if she was torn between playing nice with her Head of House's daughter and tormenting her more. Hermione made some nervous niceties to get them out of the way, and Millicent stared at her, her mind still working out what to do with her.

The two stepped towards each other to bow before taking their ten paces. Hermione successfully disarmed Millicent a number of times and blocked a mispronounced body-locker curse before she had truly earned the older girl's ire. Millicent went purple in the face as glared at Hermione with a gaze that churned her stomach. Her cat instincts told her to dive beneath one of the moved tables, but she stood firm. If Millicent physically attacked her, she could grab her hair. It'd simply look like Hermione was defending herself. Her father and Lockhart shouldn't notice with hexes being thrown around the room from every angle.

"You think you're so much better than everyone, don't you!" Millicent spat.

"Aww," Hermione forced feeling a mixture of disgust in herself and fear. "That's not true. But I don't believe I need seven people as back up to handle you. So...maybe I am." _I am such a bitch..._

"You bitch!" Millicent cried, neglecting the pretense of the duel and seizing her by the wrist. "I don't need help to take care of a little stray like you!"

Millicent seemed to know Judo or some other form of marital arts. She was surprisingly fast for a girl her size and before Hermione could move, Millicent had used one of her arms to wrench Hermione's behind her, causing her to bite her lip to stifle a cry of pain. Which didn't work well, as Neville and Dean beside them stared at the two of them. Millicent used her other arm to grip around Hermione's neck from behind.

The room spun and Hermione's heart pounded in her ears as her eyes flooded with tears. A tightness formed in her chest as she took deep and shallow breaths to try and urge breath into her, without luck. Her limbs twitched and she froze. _I did this on purpose? I can't believe...I'm so stupid! I can't..._ She grew more light-headed and her body felt as though her bones were made of lead. She grew dizzier and something caught her eye. A long strand of black hair on Millicent's sleeves. Desperation cried in Hermione's brain as she used her free hand to grasp at it, and suddenly her brain did something else.

Hermione's body moved without her knowledge. She bit the arm holding her head. Millicent let out a yelp, releasing her and Hermione spun, shaky on her feet and swiped at Millicent's face before darting backwards, nearly falling.

"You crazy bitch!" she cried launching at her.

Hermione hissed nearly dodged Millicent's attack, but her arm was once again seized. Hermione feared she'd be put in the hold again, as she tried to wriggle out of Millicent's grasp. It seemed Hermione had spent whatever energy she could spend to get away before, now she felt weak, and even while she squeaked and hissed she felt her effort grow more pathetic. _Just one more rush of adrenaline...Just...get away, scratch, bite, hiss..._

"GIRLS!" her father's voice shouted from behind her.

_Shit!_

Millicent released her and Hermione once more fell backwards and she had to tell herself not to bite the hands that steadied her. She could keep her cat-brain quiet while Millicent tried to strangle her, she could do it now. _Calm down..._

"What happened here," her father seethed.

"Sh-she-she bit me, Professor!" Millicent pleaded.

Hermione got a good look at Millicent's face for the first time, it was nowhere near as bad as Harry's had been, but she did manage to get four nails to dig deep and drag across her right cheek. She rolled up her sleeve and showed a beefy arm with a bleeding bite mark that looked like that of an oversized and panicked cat. Hermione's teeth weren't quite normal-or normal for her-yet. She did more damage than she wanted. And her father was not supposed to notice. _If she gets expelled...it's because I wanted to impersonate her...it's all my fault._

"I see," he said in a cold dangerous voice. "And trying to break her arm was a proportional response?"

"No, sir," Millicent suddenly looked very small and very scared.

"I," Hermione gasped. "I started it, sir," she admitted staring at the blood on her nails. "Body just-acted. Perceived a threat...cat-brain took over...my fault. Look at her face."

"You're not-Shit!" he started when he heard a high male voice incant a spell. "We _will_ be talking about this!"

He didn't have to go far to see who cast during the pause. The source was beside him. Malfoy had summoned a king cobra, how looked quite ready to spring at Harry, or near by Justin Finch-Fletchly. Harry gripped his wand tightly, and his green eyes darted from the snake to Justin in an incredibly fast panic. This wasn't going to end well.

"Stand back, Potter," he said.

Hermione didn't think Harry heard her father. Instead, panic griped his white face and he shouted something in a series of hisses that felt more like a language than the sounds Hermione stifled from her own mouth. A theory confirmed when the snake titled it's head, regarding Harry as though listening..._language...shit!_

Others had figured it out as well, staring at him and gasping. Justin's flesh blanched to the shade of soured milk and he regarded Harry with fear. Her father though, once he got rid of the snake, he glared at Harry as if he suspected him of murder. He scrutinized the poor boy's face with an intensity she hadn't seen before. He was jumping to all the wrong conclusions.

Harry's eyes darted across the Great Hall, staring at Ron and Hermione in a mixture of fear and confusion that matched everyone's in the Hall.

* * *

Hermione endured Pomfrey's comments of "I knew I released you too early!" and "I told you to avoid situations like that!" while she treated Millicent's arm and face. Luckily they were both released and ventured to their own common rooms happy to ignore each other. Her father and Lockhart were reporting the disaster and Harry's newfound gift to Dumbledore, meaning Hermione was free to focus on this most recent piece of the puzzle- _I mean comfort Harry..._

"Parseltongue?" Harry asked sitting by the fireplace looking quite disturbed.

"Means you can talk to snakes, mate," Ron explained.

"More specifically," Hermione looked up from the library's copy of _Secrets of Salazar Slytherin. _"Parseltongue is a language that allows you to speak to snakes. But you can't learn it, it's innate. People born with this ability inherit it from their ancestors and are called Parselmouths. That's why everyone looked at you like that, Harry."

"But," Harry swallowed and he joined Hermione on the hearth with pinched desperation in his voice. "Loads of wizards must have that ability, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "Don't you remember when we read all those different books on Slytherin back in the hospital? The last documented Parselmouth came from his family."

"But," he stared at both Ron and Hermione. "I'm in Gryffindor, my parents were in Gryffindor. I can't be related to Slytherin. I can't."

"It was centuries ago, Harry," Hermione bit her lip and stared into the flames. "I'll look into the family tree, but not every branch can be traced. But, Harry, take it from me, a distant biological link-it doesn't mean anything. It doesn't-it can't have any bearing on who you are as a person."

"But," Harry ventured. "How can you be sure?"

_Because it has to be..._Hermione thought, but instead offered a weak smile. "Because we _know _you, Harry. And nothing could make you like the so-called heir. Blood means nothing."

"Says the girl who's always defending Snape," Ron teased joining the two on the floor.

"Because he _raised _me, Ron. Blood has nothing to do with it." _Though I guess I know it's both now... _"You'd never catch me saying the same things about the woman who gave birth to me."

"You mean your mother?" Ron laughed.

"So, Harry," Hermione turned to him. "Are you absolutely certain you have no clue when you're speaking Paseltongue?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "To me, it's just like I'm speaking English."

"And when they speak back?" Hermione asked thinking suddenly about the voices in the walls on he claimed to hear.

"English," he said.

"Did the cobra speak to you?" Hermione asked thinking of the silent snake ready to launch at Justin.

"Don't be mad," Ron said. "We were right beside him, the snake didn't make a-"

"But it did speak to me!" Harry said. "You two didn't hear anything?"

Just like the voices. All Hermione heard was the movement of something sliding-no slithering!-in the pipes. Harry was hearing a monster that spoke Parseltongue. That's why even with Hermione's enhanced senses she heard nothing. Hermione resolved to go to the library to research snake monsters in the morning. This lead should allow her to find out what it was. The last piece of the puzzle would be the student controlling it...Hermione gripped the piece of hair in her fist tighter. _And I have a plan for that..._


	28. B2:Ch12 Incomplete Theories

"If the boy speaks Parseltongue..." Severus began cautiously. "It's possible-"

"That Lily Potter's son, raised by and among muggles, Hermione's best friend, would be sicking Slytherin's beast on unsuspecting muggleborns?" Dumbledore snapped, his blue eyes aflame with a rare mixture fury and exasperation. Severus did not miss the condescending tones in his voice. "That is preposterous!"

Dumbledore had to say her name. Years later, and still it wrenched his heart in his chest. Every moment pleasant and unpleasant flooded his mind and the guilt formed a lump in his throat. The guilt and regret induced spiral of memories tormented him more than Dumbledore could ever know, yet he used her name so poignantly. The twist of the knife to make Severus obey...so effective. And to use Hermione's name in the same breath...

"Not if he's possessed, headmaster," Severus said pushing through the memories. "It is a possibility that Potter has some blood we are unaware of, and that the creature can manipulate the heir to do its bidding somehow."

Dumbledore pursed his lips and stroked his long beard, staring past Severus instead of at him. A great mind at work. Though a glimmer of something flashed across his eyes and he made returned from his thoughts. "I see," he said. "Harry hasn't been acting too out of the ordinary, and your daughter can vouch for him both nights of the attacks. Did she ever tell you why they were there on Hallowe'en?"

"I've had about as much luck with her as you've had with Potter," Severus sighed.

"Does your daughter not trust you, I wonder?" he mused. "That does make my suggestion difficult for you to heed, I'm afraid."

"Oh?" he asked, knowing he would not like whatever followed.

"Ask Hermione about Harry's behaviour," Dumbledore searched his eyes over his half-moon glasses. "She can report back to you anything unusual, and she actually might if you tell her about your possession theory. She doesn't hate you, Severus, she's twelve. Though she's mistrustful, it's nice to see that you trust me enough to let your guard down."

"Headmaster," he folded his arms over his chest not appreciating that his trusting gesture invited invasion.

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore chuckled. "How rude of me, Severus. Old habits do die hard, don't they?"

"All is forgiven," he shrugged swallowing his anger. "Though I had never intended to make my child a spy..."

"And if Harry truly is being manipulated by the creature as you theorize?"

"I'll bring you what information I can extract from her," he agreed stoically. _This will not end well for either of us, I think._

* * *

"How did you-?" Ron choked as Hermione plunged the Boomslang skin into her cauldron.

"My father thought he was punishing me by making me do inventory," she shrugged, feeling both a touch rebellious, and guilty for lying to him.

_The ends justify the means...you lied to him, not hurt him. How many times has he lied to you?_

"You should get on his bad side more often," Harry smirked. "Between this and the archives, detentions have proved dead useful."

"Tell Snape you're dating Harry," Ron fake swooned. "He'll have you in detentions till you're seventeen."

"Sure," Hermione laughed imagining her father's reaction. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"Yeah, I reckon he'll love that," Harry scoffed. "I think I like 'drawing breath,' thanks!"

"So insensitive!" Myrtle wailed.

The three of them gathered in Myrtle's bathroom as Hermione worked on the Polyjuice potion. They discussed the plan, Hermione knew where the Slytherin dorms were, they'd follow her down as Millicent Bulstrode, Crabbe and Goyle. If Hermione's stunt at dueling club didn't get her expelled..._If your father expels her, it's all your fault! _And what the hell was Hermione thinking admitting Millicent's involvement in hospitalizing her? Hermione should have kept quiet. If she was honest, she wanted to be paired with Pansy. She was closer to Malfoy, and their year of fake friendship made it easy for Hermione to behave like her. She shook it from her thoughts as she added powdered fang.

"Why _here?"_ Ron groaned.

"Because their isn't a soul who'll come here," she said. "And I wanted to talk to Myrtle..."

Myrtle wailed loudly once more before diving into a toilet and flushing herself into the plumbing with a loud splash.

"Which isn't happening today," she sighed.

"Still stuck on that pipe theory, then?" Ron asked.

"At least until I have another," she admitted feeling less certain.

The mixture turned a ash-brown mixture that reminded Hermione of spent dishwater. She consulted the book, the had to let it stew for three days. Hermione stashed it in a cubicle and left the room with Harry and Ron behind her under Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Once they were far away from the toilet and the scene of Mrs Norris's petrification, they ducked behind into an alcove so Harry and Ron could lose the Cloak without suspicion.

"Have you talked to Ginny recently?" Hermione asked Ron as they made their way to the library. "While I was in the hospital I noticed her coming in _a lot. _But she would simply walk in the doors, see you two and leave. I haven't the chance to talk to her since I got out."

Ron shook his head. "She's been keeping to herself. It's really weird. Normally she's very social, and never-and I mean _never_\- shuts up."

"Why are you asking about, Ginny?" Harry asked. "You don't think _she's _got anything to do with this?"

"Unless she starts speaking Parseltongue, I doubt it. But she wanted to talk to me about something serious before I was put in the hospital. But now-it's like she's avoiding me."

"She's avoiding _Harry_," Ron scoffed. "She has a huge crush on him. Maybe she thinks _you_ also like him?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Hermione liked _Hiro...and, okay, maybe I kinda like Kaori...just a bit...I think_. But no one could really hold a candle to Hiro, even when they were half a world away. He was her first friend, the first kind person to her, and her first case of a hopeless crush she'd never see to fruition. "I'll tell her that isn't happening. Maybe then she'll talk to me about whatever it was she was about tell me that night."

"When you say 'isn't happening'...?" Ron pressed.

"Harry and I are not and are never going to be a thing. I'm a 'six', remember?" she said casually before adding in a small voice. "You _know _all this. _Why_ are you pressing on this?"

Ron scoffed and his ears burned scarlet. "No reason."

Hermione swallowed her frustration. She had no interest in expressing her suddenly emerging interests and impossible crushes with Ron. What was he on to? She didn't care, she had far too much on her mind, and Ron was clearly taking the Mickey. She was done.

"So," Harry said. "How's the research into Slytherin going?"

Hermione truthfully hadn't started. She had gotten up around four o'clock, left a note for Harry and Ron placed in Harry's copy of _Book of __Standard Spells Grade 2_, and crept into Myrtle's bathroom to start on the potion. She had to learn how to do the Extendable Charm so she didn't have to worry about summoning objects and being caught. She'd been trying to talk to Myrtle, but Myrtle half-moaned over Hermione's treatment of her at Hallowe'en, which Hermione apologized again for, and half-mocked her cat-person form, even if all that was left was her mismatched eyes, which now were amber and hazel, very close to her usual brown, and little points at the end of her ears no one could see under her hair. Not that that mattered to Myrtle.

Her whole morning was setting up and working on the first steps of the potion. Then recording her theories in her journal in case she conveniently lost her memory again. Harry and Ron came to her while she was adding the Boomslang skin after they'd had eaten breakfast. And...she wasted time re-reading a letter she meant to burn. Ugh! Hermione could _not _afford to be distracted. She could have left the potion unsupervised for an hour while she snuck into the archives for Great Eight genealogy research. How could she be so careless? If Myrtle truly did die at the hands of the creature...than others could die, and Hermione was obsessing over her personal life! And she'd even planned to do homework that wasn't due till after the holiday...she _had _to start now, but...people could die..._I wish Myrtle would talk to me! Then I could find out who did it in '43!_

"I'm really sorry, Harry!" Hermione squeaked clasping her hands together. "I was working on _that_ all morning! I didn't have time to hit the archives. I'm so, so sorry! But we're hitting the library now, so we can get right on it!"

"_All _morning?" Ron said. "Did it really take that long?"

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip. "Yeah..."

"So..." Harry said. "You've been working on that all morning and you're apologizing because?"

"Erm," Hermione wrung her hands. "I-"

"You really are a mad one, aren't you?" Ron laughed. "We don't even expect _you_ to be in two places at once."

"Erm, thanks...?" Hermione felt she should be doing more still.

They walked to the library in silence as Hermione poured over her theories. Harry spoke Parseltongue, allowing him to hear Slytherin's creature. It was passed down by blood, and Slytherin's heir was supposed to open the Chamber. Could Harry be compelled somehow by the creature because of his ability? No, he was acting normal. Possession was a stupid theory! She spent way too much time with Harry for that to hold ground. If Malfoy had the same ability, he was their best suspect. But something didn't feel right. Hermione felt like she had all of the puzzle pieces. Harry's a Parselmouth, Myrtle died last time it was released, it was snake-like, possibly a basilisk, it used the pipes to move around the school. But how the fuck did it all connect? What was Malfoy's role? She had to re-read that bit on the basilisk to be certain...but what if she was wrong? She didn't know about rooster deaths, and still had no clue where the chamber actually was.

Hermione was so deep in thought that her enhanced hearing didn't pick up the excited footsteps behind her before she was hugged from behind by a girl who was roughly Hermione's size. "Hermione!"

"Gah!" Hermione leapt and spun around before gasping.

Luna beamed at her, her silver eyes sparkling as she adjusted the wand tucked behind her ear exposing a very realistic looking radish earring which prompted Ron to chuckling.

"Oh, you're almost back to normal," Luna said still smiling. "But you used to be my height, you're shorter now. But I was right about the freckles though!"

"Erm, thanks?" Hermione said unsure what she was supposed to say.

Ron and Harry were both sniggering then and Hermione resisted the urge to snap at them.

"I just wanted to say I'm so happy you're out of the hospital!" she linked her arm into Hermione's. "I didn't get to see you the last couple days."

Hermione felt a pang of guilt. She should have contacted Luna when she was discharged.

"I'm researching for my next art-" she eyed Harry and Ron. "I mean project on cat fairies. Wanna come to the library with me?"

"We were just heading up to the library ourselves for a project due at the end of holidays," Hermione lied. "We can all go together, but we'll have to separate once we're there."

"Great!" Luna sang. "So, what are you all doing for Christmas? I spend every Christmas collecting snow crystals with Daddy in our yard before dinner."

"Cool," Harry said. "I'll be here, that much quality time with the Dursleys would send all four of us to a hospital."

"Well," she said. "Daddy and I are very close. We write several times a week, and we go away together on adventures every summer."

"Don't let my father hear you say that," Hermione giggled. "He'd think-"

"Think what exactly, little girl?" asked a cold voice from behind them.

Hermione turned to see her father, his pallid thin face once again impassible save for a challenging raised eyebrow as he leaned against the corridor wall with folded arms. Hermione could hear him daring her to finish that sentence in her head. Fear and guilt fought for dominance in her mind. How would he react? But it wasn't really okay for her to talk like that about her father, was it? Like Luna's dad, all her father had in the world was her, and she was supposed to have his back. He never _said _that, but she knew it was true. _Wow, you're a shitty friend and a shitty daughter! _

"I believe you three were heading to the library?" he asked.

"Th-there's-erm-four of us, sir," Hermione bit her lip and clasped her hands staring at them rather than him.

Any boldness and ability to speak plainly to her father from the previous night vanished.

"And you staying behind makes three," he sighed. "I thought you were good at maths? Follow me."

"I'll catch up with you lot later," Hermione unhooked her arm from Luna's.

_What if he knows? Act natural...I'm going to be sick..._

Her father ushered her into an empty classroom and shut the door behind him.

"I'm going to forget about whatever little comment you were about to make," her father said leaning against the door. "So you can stop attempting to skin your own damn hands, Hermione."

Hermione unclasped her hands and stared at the red crescent marks between her knuckles. "If this is about Millicent-"

"Miss Bullstrode made a full recovery and is writing lines until the holiday," he informed her. "And though I don't understand it, I said nothing about her and the other seven attacking you. You're welcome."

_Oh thank Merlin, _Hermione let out a sigh. If he expelled her it would have all been for not.

"Nor do I understand your relief. I imagine you think last night made you girls even, yes?" he asked in an exasperated tone. "You could have been hurt, you know? Looked like you would have been if I hadn't stepped in. But, that's not why I've been looking for you all bloody morning. Where were you?"

"I overslept, sir," she nodded and folded her arms to stop herself from clasping her hands and digging her nails into her flesh.

"Lying again, are we?" he lifted her face to establish eye-contact. "But of course what else could I possibly expect? I told you to leave it alone. Had you _any _intention of listening?"

Hermione bit her lip and wrung her hands nervously. She tried not to think of her suspicions or what she'd been up to. _That's not why I've been looking for you all bloody morning..._ "Why were you looking for me all morning?"

"_I _am asking the questions right now, little girl," he seethed before letting out an exasperated sigh. "This is _not _ how I imagined this conversation going-why are you so difficult?"

Hermione didn't say anything, but examined the lines on his face. She couldn't gaze into his eyes and know his surface thoughts, but she had a whole lifetime of learning his expressions. Whatever he might have said about her being transparent because he raised her, the same could be said in reverse. When he wasn't actively trying to be impassible, at least. Which, though he was good at it, he was not doing it now. Instead he looked tired, rings formed under his eyes, he seemed worried. Angry, but worried and tired as well. She wondered why, but whatever conversation he'd imagined might give her a clue.

"I want to talk about Potter," he said finding an even tone.

_What about him _this _time? _But instead she nodded and listened intently.

"Did you know he was a Parselmouth?" he asked, she didn't like the way his eyes bore into her.

"No, sir," she shook her head. "I don't think he knew either. Said he thought he was speaking English, seemed to think it was normal for wizards to talk to snakes."

He raised an eyebrow and looked rather bemused. "Honestly? A year and a half of magical education and he thinks that's _normal_? I see he pays about as much attention to Professor Binns as he does me. You have impeccable taste in people, don't you?"

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was like he physically couldn't resist the urge to insult Harry at every opportunity. "Harry has no control over it, before the incident at dueling club no idea he was even doing it. So if you're thinking he's somehow controlling the creature, he literally can't. He was also with me the night of both attacks."

Her father sighed. "He was with you the entire night both nights? You had eyes on him the whole time he could have slipped away? Even while you were interviewing ghosts at the party or while during afternoon while you were in the hospital?"

Hermione knew what he was getting at. "Harry was hospitalized before the time Pomfrey gave me for the time of petrification on Colin. You saw him, hundreds saw Harry before then. I know you don't like him, but how could you think he's even remotely-"

"Because he speaks Parseltongue!" he snapped before evening his voice. "Potter has in one way or another inherited an ability associated with Slytherin. And the fact that he was completely unaware of it makes me more concerned not less."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from gasping. Maybe the idea wasn't so stupid after all. "You think he's being manipulated...possessed?"

"It seems I'm not the only one working on that theory," he said slowly. "When did you come to it?"

"Last night when he told me he didn't know about it," Hermione admitted, ice forming in her veins. "But I think I'm wrong, Dad."

"Why?"

"He hasn't been acting out of character at all," she said. "When I can't account for him, Ron can. And he hasn't been losing any memories." _Shit! _

"Are you absolutely certain?" he asked. "Potter's mind is vulnerable, it'd be easy for someone to take control."

"No, Harry's been normal," Hermione said as she thought about different possession enchantments. She knew little about them, and it was yet another thing for her to research.

"Last time you made that expression," her father placed his hand on her shoulder. "You were determined to run after Quirrell and get yourself killed. _Tell me_, little girl, what have you pieced together?"

Hermione bit her lip and wondered if he would know what she was thinking if she tried to lie again. Though maybe there was something between the truth and a lie that she could give him. Even if she could trust him, she'd want to be absolutely certain before she implicated anyone. And she hadn't a chance to clarify yet. She could be wrong...it was so absurd she probably was wrong.

"I can't be certain of anything at the moment," she explained. "Dad, I still have to stop myself from knocking my dishes off the table at meals. My brain isn't exactly 'piece things together' material right now. I trust it about as much as I trust-" _What the hell? You stupid piece of shit! Come up with something...now!_

"Trust whom?" he said slowly in a cold voice.

"I have too many examples," Hermione sighed looking away. "I spoke faster than it took me to decide on one."

"I see," he spoke through gritted teeth. "After all, it can't be you fell silent because you were about to say me. Not after I raised you, nursed you to health, taught you, comforted you, supported you...no, it can't be me you were about to mention, can it? Not with _eight_ names available in recent memory that are a _much _better fit. "

Hermione felt a pang of guilt. How could she have said that aloud? So stupid! And, maybe after _raising her, _he did earn a level of trust. He was her father for Merlin's sake! _But, he wiped my memory...he's lied to me for a half a year...even if his motives were pure...but he's my father...Merlin's pants! _He was angry with her, she could see it in his clenched jaw and rigid posture, but there was also something sad in his black eyes that expressed a kind of hurt she imagined only she could cause. _You are a terrible daughter... Though I was about to say adults in general...is that worse or better?_

"I'm going to ask one more time and I expect the truth, if you're capable of giving it," he spat. "Outside of Potter's little display at Dueling Club, has he done _anything _suspicious since Hallowe'en?"

She could answer this one truthfully. "No, sir."

"Very well," he opened the door. "You are dismissed."

* * *

She was definitely hiding something. Hermione's mind was a mad swirl of memories thoughts and feelings, not settling on a thought or image for more than a fraction of a second. Severus knew she felt guilt, and a lot of it. Before he nearly caught the little idiot admitting to mistrusting him. Uncertainty, a poor sense of self and indecisiveness were the enemy of a guarded mind, yet Hermione made it work for her. Post transfiguration, her mind was even harder to navigate. At least, not when he avoided actively engaging in Legillimency and instead tried to glean her surface thoughts through eye-contact. But the moment he took out his wand she would know. He didn't need special insights into her mind to know she would never really recover from another attack on her mind.

Potter would be a better target. Getting him alone to interrogate him shouldn't prove too difficult. He should have severed the detentions himself instead of handing the boy off to Filch for various cleaning tasks. That would have given him everything he needed. Assuming Potter's mind wasn't the same sickening swirl that Hermione's was.

He half wondered if there was a biological imperative where he just couldn't understand Hermione because she was twelve and he was an adult, and therefore couldn't get it. Amusing as that thought was, he imagined his misunderstanding of her came from her inability to settle on a thought or emotion long enough for her to consciously process them.

Potter and Weasley emerged from the library without Hermione or Lovegood, perhaps meaning Hermione was roped into assisting the girl in a wild goose chase. The boys spoke in whispered tones, but they looked upset. Weasley was livid, red behind the ears and speaking through his teeth while Potter's slumped posture mixed with erratic hand movements suggested a mixture of anger and hopelessness. He waited for them to move in order to tail them. Without Hermione and her enhanced hearing, this would be easy.

And they separated..._Damn it! Potter, I'm tailing Potter._

What troubled the boy so much he wondered. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the boy's movements. He wondered briefly if Potter knew he had been tailing him and was trying to shake him off. This went on for a while before he started in a trajectory that would eventually lead to Gryffindor Tower. He kept a wide distance, but thought that tailing the boy at this point was pointless. They wound around the corridors with little to no interruptions until he reached the second floor and spied a mane of bushy brown hair nearly level with the floor covering the tiny form crouching and ignoring her own damn advice.

He approached to her immediately jumping up to face him. He noticed an unkempt black tomcat skid away from the scene, unsettled by Hermione's movements. She stood clasping a book to her chest. She didn't look at him, but rather locked her gaze to her feet and shame radiating from her entire being.

"Honestly?" he hissed. "Are you _trying _to test my patience? Because it is _very _nearly at its end!"

Hermione clutched the book tighter to her chest and she made an effort to even her voice after a deep breath. "I-" she suddenly looked down the corridor. "Did you hear that?"

"Don't try to-" _You know her hearing's still enhanced, even if not at the level it was_. He took out his wand. "Where?"

Hermione pointed, squinting.

"Stay behind me," he instructed.

"It's Peeves's voice," she whispered. "I think whimp-"

If she was about to say whimpering, wailing became the better term as Peeves found his voice and it was loud enough to echo through the corridors and caused Hermione to jump and cover her ears for a moment.

"NO STUDENT OR GHOST IS SAFE! ANOTHER DOUBLE ATTACK!" he cried floating between them. "RUN FOR YOURSELVES! NO ONE IS SAFE!"

He vanished down the corridor and he noticed that Hermione was already bounding the direction from whence the poltergeist came.

_Damn it, Hermione! _

* * *

Hermione dashed around down the corridor and pressed herself against the wall, peaking around the corner. She kept her eyes on the ground in case whatever the attacker was had a gaze attack-several of the monsters she read about did. Her heart pounded in her ears as she saw the tall, dark-haired Hufflepuff boy her age lying rigid on the floor-still as a statue. It was Justin Finch-Fletchly, she remembered his stupid impressions of professors in Herbology, his stupid jokes, and his clumsy attempts at conversations with Harry. Now, like Colin, he laid still. Unable to move. Another dark-haired boy crouched beside him, it was-Harry!

Hermione rounded the corner to see what had shaken Peeves so thoroughly. Nick stood in midair, completely still, his wispy transparent face contorted in an expression of horror, his head bobbing up and down from the "flap of skin" that kept his head affixed to his body. So, it could affect ghosts. Hermione hadn't read anything about ghosts being petrified...She remembered the last time she spoke him was at the Deathday Party. He'd been trying so hard to enjoy himself at the party...

"Harry," Hermione said softly kneeling next to him.

Harry's face drained of colour and his breathing was shallow. He turned to face her, Hermione recognized the knit eyebrows, mouth hung open and flash in his green eyes. He was trying to piece it together. He wanted whatever did this. He wanted to avenge the victims, prove his innocence and stop the attacks before anyone else got hurt. She wondered if he had pieced anything that would bring him closer to those goals. Hermione turned to the petrified ghost suspended in mid air and felt the beginnings of a theory coming together. She could bring Harry closer to that goal, help him save others from suffering the same fate.

_Did Justin see you through Nick? Camera..._She remembered staring into the reflected crime scene though the ankle deep water and sick on Hallowe'en... _You've read something about this, remember, you little idiot!_

"Caught in the act, Potter!" a boy's voice cried from behind him.

"Ernie, I-" Harry started.

"You son of bitch! What the hell has Justin ever done to you? I _told _him to stay in the common room...I-" Ernie MacMillian seethed. "I hope they crucify you!"

Ernie MacMillian launched himself at Harry and Hermione managed not to freeze in place, as she typically did, but threw herself in front of Harry to block Ernie's attack. "Harry didn't do it, Ernie!" she cried shrilly-she had wanted to sound more reasonable than that.

"Of course _you_ don't think he did it!" Ernie gave an angry laugh. "You're hopeless!"

"_What_," a new voice joined the corridor-her father's. "Happened here?"

The three of the turned to him each losing whatever resolve they had earlier as they stared blankly into those cold, black eyes. When it came to her father's fury, he had two modes, the heated, vein-popping angry that turned to screaming, and the cold, long-lived wrath that lead to much more thought-out movements. This was the latter.

McGonagall appeared behind his shoulder, her beady eyes flickering with a flame while her lips formed a thin line and her nostrils flared. "I would like to know that as well..." she looked at the three of them.

Hermione suddenly realized what the scene looked like to them. Nick and Justin-Ernie's best friend- had been ready to tear Harry's head off. As if-and he probably was-looking for vengeance. Everyone already thought Harry tried to sick the snake on him the previous night and he had been looking for Justin all day to explain the mess with the snake at Dueling Club. Now it looked like he was out for blood the whole time. Hermione diving between the boys and preaching Harry's innocence didn't help matters either-to them it looked like she was defending her friend.

McGonagall conjured a pair of stretchers underneath the victims and a huge fan to propel Nick to the hospital where it was impossible to physically move them. She then looked at Harry, her expression stern, but softer than when she appeared on the scene. Hermione couldn't tell, but it seemed her beady eyes were glistening behind her square spectacles. Pity, fear, apprehension...

"I'm sorry, Potter," she said in quiet voice. "You leave me no choice."

"I didn't do it!" Harry choked, staring not at her, but at Nick.

"He's telling the truth, Professor," Hermione pleaded. "You know he isn't capable-"

"Silence, Hermione," her father said softly before turning to McGonagall. "Take Potter, I'll handle everything else."

The air grew thick and heavy with a cold indifferent shadow cast over them. Hermione made eye contact with Harry, perhaps for the last time, and she saw something she had never seen before flicker across his bloodless face. Hopelessness, he sighed and hung his head before setting off to follow McGonagall. The blood froze in her veins as she wondered if who ever framed Harry not only got him expelled...but sent to Azkaban. She wanted to pull him back and warn him, but the words caught somewhere in her throat. Since her attack, Hermione had been more reactive, but the old Hermione resurfaced in time to let Harry walk away without a word of warning.

Hermione couldn't move as she stared at Harry vanishing in the distance.

"Hermione," her father said in a firm voice. "This way. Now."


	29. B2:Ch13: Potions & Problems

"I can't believe you ran _toward_ the thing that the _poltergeist _ran from!" Severus shouted.

If he thought his daughter was difficult last year, this year she aimed to prove him wrong. Hermione shrank against a wall in his office and held her hands together, once again, digging her nails in to them. She bit her lip and stared at the ground. When he caught her in the corridor there had been a trace of defiance in her face, like back in Dueling Club. Any trace of that was gone. That might have made this conversation easier but he did wonder when that defiant spirit would rise again. Last year she was unlucky and working things out...but this year, Hermione was just being stupid.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" he demanded. "First you help Potter and Weasley sneak into the school, you publish an expose on a teacher, you find yourself at a gruesome crime scene and fail to give me a reason for it, you investigate something I tell you to stay the hell away from, you sneak out of the hospital because you hear banging in the pipes, you publish your mad theory and turn the student body against each other-oh, yes, Potter can thank you and your pathetic attempts to 'use the rumor mill for good' for half the student body thinking it was him-"

Hermione gripped her hands tighter and drew in a sharp breath. He noticed her shoulders give the tiniest tremble before she shuffled her feet to steady herself.

_Shit. _"The other teachers and I put little stock into murmurs of students. Any actions officially taken against Potter as a result of our investigation and won't rest on your little shoulders. So you can put to rest any idea you got the boy expelled."

She said nothing.

"Just tell me," he said, leaving her very long list of misdeeds behind. "_Why _did you run in there? Cocksure, no plan? What could _you _possibly do to subdue the attacker that _I_ couldn't? Or were you _trying _to get yourself killed? You are never _this _careless! This isn't like you."

Hermione steadied herself, the grip on her hands tightened yet again as she drew her eyes from the ground to him. Where she had seconds before been on the verge of tears and thoroughly ashamed of what she'd done, now that defiant spirit flashed across her eyes once more. "I'm starting to think that's not a bad thing."

'Not a bad thing'? What could she possibly mean by that? He regarded his child with a resurfaced fear that the biggest danger to her was herself. Hermione stood opposite him, drawn to her full height and instead of avoiding eye-contact, as she was often want to do, she searched his eyes, her face drawn, solemn and determined.

"'_Not a bad thing'_?!" he seethed. "How in hell is you rushing head-first into danger 'not a bad thing'? Have I taught you _nothing_, Hermione?"

Hermione scoffed-_scoffed-_at this then spoke in a cold voice he hadn't thought her capable of. "Less than two months ago I would have froze like the coward I was. But now that I'm more reactive I can actually be of some use to someone. Those girls attacking me might just have been the best thing to happen to me."

"_Be of_ use?" he yelled slamming his hand against his desk. "And just how _useful _do you imagine you'll be if you're _dead_?!"

Hermione didn't have an answer to this question, but her features didn't soften and whatever defiant spirit possessed her lingered. Normally she would have backed down by now, reconsidered her position. Of all the things she could be justifiably angry about, _this _was the hill she wanted to die on? _This _was the thing that she allowed herself to be angry about? Eleven years of 'it's fine' and _now_, when her life was at risk, she chose to grow a spine? The failed transfiguration might have been a catalyst, but he remembered that first day he came to see her when her behaviour should have been at its worst. She still had the ability to curb her stupider impulses, and she still tried to appear calm at all times.

"Best thing that ever happened to you?" he steadied his breath. "Let's review what your behaviourial changes have accomplished to establish your 'usefulness' then, shall we? You put not one, but _two _students in the hospital because you scratched them. Nearly cost your best friend his eye...if it wasn't for already being in the hospital, he would have been scarred at the very least. You dragged him out of the hospital endangering him as well as yourself. If you don't give a damn about your own safety, I know your little martyr-complex will allow you to see how stupid that was!"

"I do _not_ have a martyr-complex!" cried Hermione.

"_Silence__, you silly little girl!" _he snarled. "And all evidence seems to point to the contrary. You think rushing in with no regard to your own well-being and doing whatever you feel others require of you is a good thing. You may have even been told that by your peers and other professors that this is somehow a virtue. Well, I see it for what it is: self-destructive! Which is why I imagine the only person you've ever managed to say 'no' to is the one person who actually gives a damn about your welfare!"

Hermione's rigid posture left her and her facial features softened. She let out a drawn out sigh before nervously wringing her hands. After a moment she stopped and looked at him before speaking in soft, even tones. "Running in there was stupid," she admitted.

"Incredibly so," he agreed, gently running his hand over the top of her head.

"I wasn't thinking," she sighed.

"Evidently."

"I know you're only worried," she returned her gaze to her wringing hands. "I-erm-I thought someone could have been hurt and I _had_ to do something I-"

"Couldn't help yourself?" he sighed sitting and inviting her next to him.

Hermione obliged with apprehension and nodded.

"I figured as much," he moved tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't trust me and I can't force you to. But some part of you has to know I only have your best interests at heart."

She nodded again and inched closer to him.

"Hermione," he said softly. "Never let me catch doing something so reckless again. You will not like what follows if you do."

"Yessir."

* * *

"So, the Parseltongue is a remnant from You-Know-Who's failed spell?" Ron asked astounded.

_I wonder how that works..._Hermione thought but kept quiet hoping that Dumbledore imparted more information to the not expelled Harry. She furled the scroll of the latest family tree she had been researching, relieved to stop looking at cousin-marriages for just a bit. A week of research and Malfoys connecting to Slytherin were non-existent...they had better get definitive proof infiltrating the Slytherin dorms or it would all have been for nothing...

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Reckons Voldemort spoke it and that there's some connection or link between us now. Residual effects."

Hermione bit her lip pensively as she mulled over spell effects that could do. She couldn't think of any, though. Harry was the first and only case of surviving the killing curse. She abandoned it for more pressing matters. Harry was innocent! Not only was he innocent, but he wasn't being manipulated by the monster. This was a victory. She could cross Harry off the list and move to seeing what was effecting Ginny's mind. Harry was right to call Hermione out on it, but there was certainly _something _wrong.

"There's no chance I'll get you to stop saying that name, is there?" Ron asked.

"Dumbledore says fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," Harry said in a matter-of-fact voice.

"You'll forgive us if we don't join you," Hermione said recalling the only time she had ever said the name.

_"Daddy?" asked five-year-old Hermione clinging to her father's hand._

_"Yes, love?" he said, distracted.  
_

_"What's a Voldemort?" _

_Whatever had been distracting her father disappeared as his black eyes turned on her, wide with terror and his face bloodless. He knelt down to her eye-level and seized her shoulders with shaking hands and shouted. "YOU MUST NOT SPEAK THE DARK LORD'S NAME!"_

_Hermione had never seen her father so frightened, she didn't know what happened, what she did wrong or why he was yelling at her and burst into tears. _

Hermione now knew exactly why he had reacted the way he had. The atrocities Voldemort had committed, the dark wizards at his disposal, the fact that he was likely not truly dead...If she thought she'd been liberated from cowardice by her newfound reactivity, she only needed to think about the fear in her father's eyes at the mention of a name, and all she read attached to it for it to surface. _Fear doesn't make you a coward, you little idiot. _

"You too?" Harry shook his head.

"Me too," Hermione sighed putting her scrolls back. "Call me a coward if you like."

"I wasn't going to call you a coward," Harry sighed. "If I did, I'd have to call every wizard but Dumbledore one. What's asphodel?"

Hermione hid her eyeroll behind her notebook. "It's a flowering Greek plant, part of the lilium family, most often used in sleeping draughts. They're also quite pretty. They have like three pages dedicated to their usages in _1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi _and they collect them from the floor of Hades to enter the Dreamrealm of the half-dead in _Pearls of Persephone_. Remember?"

"I'm not there yet," Harry sighed.

"Shit!" Hermione nervously smiled. "Sorry! I'll refrain from further _Son of Hermes _comments until you're done."

"Thank you," said an exasperated Harry.

"Agreeing to extra reading," Ron shook his head. "Especially when we've already got so much on our plate. How are we supposed to figure out what this thing is when we have so much homework? I can't believe Snape assigned an essay immediately due before holidays _and _one after. That's just cruel."

"Why are you surprised?" Harry scoffed.

Hermione made no effort to hide her eyeroll here. "It's for the best. We won't be getting breaks when we're grown, you know? He just wants us to have a decent work ethic."

"You don't believe that," Ron groaned.

"You two should just be happy you've never had to write a two-roll essay on the origins of the word 'shit'," she sighed.

Harry and Ron exchanged victorious grins before laughing.

"That's excessive, well beyond detention," Harry mused.

"He was acting as my father, not my teacher," Hermione regretted bringing this up. "I wasn't even in school yet, I was nine."

"Merlin's beard," Ron breathed.

"Erm-forget I said anything!" Hermione, happy to be done with researching families returned to _Monsters of Myth Made Material _and flipped to the section on Basilisks.

_Basilisk, King of the Serpents, is born from a chicken egg hatched by a toad. Its venom is so destructive that magical means cannot repair or heal that which is afflicted. The gaze of the Basilisk is just as destructive, infused with the same burning venom, it kills instantly. No image of the Basilisk has ever been captured. Spiders flee from the creature more deadly than them. The enemy of the Basilisk is the rooster, whose call could kill it instantly._

"Shit!" Hermione cried leaping up.

"Hermione!" Harry hissed. "Are you _trying _to get us kicked out?"

"Sorry," Hermione whispered putting the book open before them. "Read this! We got it!"

Harry and Ron obliged their eyebrows knit in confusion, but she saw understanding cross Harry's face.

"That's why I've been hearing voices all year!" he began pacing. "It's a giant snake!"

"And that's why I could only hear it moving!" Hermione consulted her notes. "Its image has never been captured! That's why the film and chamber melted! It has a venomous gaze! I bet you anything the burning I smelt in the walls was its venom!"

"It all makes so much sense now," Harry agreed. "If its a snake it can constrict itself to move about!"

"Aren't you two forgetting one very important detail?" Ron said. "Nobody's dead. It's a good thing, but the Basilisk kills immediately. It can't be that."

"But no one saw its eyes!" Hermione thought back to each victim. "Colin had a camera so he only saw a filtered image and Justin saw it through Nick, having the same effect!"

"And Nick can't die twice!" Harry agreed. "So he was just petrified."

"And Mrs Norris-" Hermione continued.

"The flooding!" Ron gasped. "By Merlin, we _have _it!"

"Except," Harry said losing his victorious gleam. "Where the chamber is and who's controlling it."

"Malfoy," Ron said. "His manor was investigated by my dad this summer. That can't be a coincidence. We just need to worm a confession out of him."

"Which will be easy enough when he's bragging to us as his mates," Hermione mused wondering who else would be hurt before the potion was ready.

She'd forgotten that the Malfoys were investigated. That certainly added to Malfoy's appeal as the culprit, and Hermione suddenly felt very guilty for her suspicions of Ginny. She had what, one conversation to go off of and a misplaced theory of her father's? _Stupid piece of shit._

"What do we do with this information now that we have it?" Ron asked.

"I think I have a plan..." Hermione sighed. "My father is going to have my head for it, but we can't keep quiet."

* * *

"Thanks for agreeing to this, Luna," Hermione said looking at her sketchbook. "Oh, that's gorgeous!"

"Thanks!" Luna beamed.

Luna had drawn a character she suspected were inspired by the manga she lent her. A pretty, stylized cat-girl with long, curly hair dressed like a princess, smiling on the page surrounded by filigree, butterflies and dragonflies. "I'm so happy someone else like _Koneko Mahou Shoujo! _Hiro would be thrilled."

Luna shut the book and looked at her after a sigh. "Yeah, it's very good. I'm really enjoying it. I can't believe I leave tomorrow." Luna now looked up at the snow flakes falling on them in huge fluffy flakes. She stuck her tongue out to catch them.

"Oh!" Hermione tapped her wand on the abandoned closed sketch book. "_Impervius! _That should keep it from being wrecked by the snow."

"Thanks," Luna smiled before grabbing Hermione's hand and dragging her off the fountain. "Come play with me!"

"L-Luna!" Hermione laughed.

Luna let go of Hermione's hand to stoop to the ground and throw armfuls of it into the air, spinning under the falling clumps alongside the flakes like an overdressed ballerina, her hair fanning out behind her. The smile on Luna's face, the gleam in her eyes, she seemed so happy. Her laugh rang through the court yard and Hermione for a moment forgot everything and joined her. The two flopped into the snow beneath them cackling like madwomen until Hermione heard a crunch in the snow of two approaching footsteps.

"Must be them!" Luna sang rising from the snow and helping Hermione up.

Hermione produced steam from her wand to dry Luna, her long hair and robes looking as they did before they collapsed in the snow. Shivering, she turned the wand on herself to do the same.

"Could've chose a warmer place, y'know?" O'Malley asked miserably.

"This way no one will hear us," Hermione said.

O'Malley's companion was a willowy student of his year in Hufflepuff with wavy black hair, even brown skin and amber eyes sitting on top of high, smooth cheekbones. They flashed a smile at the two of them before speaking with an even voice with a Welsh accent. Hermione couldn't tell if this student was a girl or boy, and didn't know if she should feel bad for not knowing immediately.

"Hi," the student extended his or her hand to her. "I'm Skylar Sloan. You wanted a token Hufflepuff?"

Hermione laughed at this taking Skylar's hand. "Well, we have one of every other house. Gotta fill our quota somehow."

"If you're going for patterns," Skylar said. "You'd better getting a third-year. Then you'd have a first-year Ravenclaw, a second-year Gryffindor, a third-year Hufflepuff and a fourth year Slytherin."

Luna let out a delighted howl of laughter at this. "That would be better, wouldn't it? I'm Luna Lovegood, and this is Hermione Snape."

"We couldn't get a third-year that also fit a pattern of friendless," O'Malley explained. "We're kind of a who's who of Hogwarts most despised."

"That would explain why you never bothered to speak to me before now," Skylar rolled his or her eyes. "Or why you're speaking with these poor girls."

O'Malley rolled his eyes back. "I swear, they're always like this. So suspicious."

"_I'm _suspicious," Skylar groaned. "You tense up whenever anyone speaks to you."

"Hark who's talking!" O'Malley hissed.

"Should we leave you two alone?" Luna giggled.

"L-Luna!" Hermione choked fiddling with her scarf.

"They're not my type," O'Malley rolled his eyes.

"Too infatuated with Heather George for _anyone _else to be your type, O'Malley," Skylar teased.

"Uncalled for, Sloan!" O'Malley seethed.

"Oi!" a gruff voice called out.

Hagrid, bundled up trudged through the snow, large fat flakes in his bushy black hair and beard. He towered over the four of them as Fang frollicked through the snow. "Ye lot aren' figh'in' are ye?"

O'Malley suddenly lost all his bravado, his shoulders slumped and all Hermione could spy was the flaming red top of his head as his face disappeared into his green and silver scarf.

"We're just hanging out," Hermione said touching Hagrid's arm. "Promise, Hagrid."

"Oh, hi, Hermione," Hagird smiled and a massive hand came down to muss her hair. "Strange lot yer with. Not used ter kids outside their own houses an' years together."

"Yeah," Luna beamed. "There's one of each house. We just met our token-"

"Oi!" Hagrid suddenly snapped, his eyes wide.

"_Hufflepuff, _Hagrid," Hermione sighed. "She was going to say 'Hufflepuff'."

"Yeah," Hagrid nodded. "Well, whatever ye kids are doin', yeh migh' want ter go inside, blizzard's whipping up. Can feel it."

The four of them headed inside and spoke in hushed voices.

"Last time we did a mass spread of leaflets," Hermione explained. "We got Libby, a houseelf, to put them in Hufflepuff common room, but we also need someone to talk to people. Advocate, or at least practice the measures to make it look less crazy. It's not under our paper's name, but it's a list of creatures that fit the bill and passages on them. We-"

"Ehem," O'Malley coughed.

"_I _think it might be a Basilisk. If you see its eyes, it _kills _you. But if you see its reflection, my theory at least, is that you'll be petrified. So we want people to start carrying mirrors around, that's why we need you. You don't have to if you think-"

"It'll save muggle-borns from being killed," Skylar said in a quiet voice. "I don't care if I get in trouble."

"Thank you," she said in a quiet voice.

"But dumb question," they whispered. "Wouldn't it be smarter to bring the attention of the teachers to your theory? They could do more than we could."

Hermione didn't have a retort for that. What Skylar said made sense on paper, but they didn't know how useless the adults were last year when Voldemort nearly snatched the Philosopher's stone from under their noses.

"I'll consider going to them, but I don't know if they'll even listen to me," she said thinking back to the previous year.

"Isn't one of them your father?" Skylar raised a pointed eyebrow.

Hermione sighed. "I wish I could explain it."

"If they get petrified or killed while you're working up the courage-" O'Malley whispered.

"I can take care of myself, O'Malley," Skylar hissed.

Each of them walked away with a copy of Hermione's list of potential culprits to place on the bulletin boards in their common rooms before students left for holidays, and a copy to put back up after holidays in case they were taken down. Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon with Skylar's words weighing heavy on her mind. Was it smarter to talk to her father?

_What is _wrong _with you? I told you to leave it alone! You are going to get someone hurt, you little idiot! _Would her father even believe her if she came to him? If he wrote her off as mad every other professor surely would. She felt that going to anyone would somehow betray Harry and Ron, but if she didn't go to him and someone else got hurt, it would be all her fault. But if her father didn't believe her, it would all be for nothing.

_Malfoy, Malfoy...If he can give us an admission and evidence then everything, the lying, the fighting, _everything_, it will all have been worth it._

* * *

"You seem distracted, love," Severus rested his hand on Hermione's head. "When was the last time you slept?"

Dark purple rings encircled Hermione's amber and hazel eyes, her bushy hair frizzier than usual and her usually olive skin seemed to have a grey cast to it. Was she sick?

The two sat on the floor of their living quarters by the fireplace doing Christmas themed cross-word puzzles, and Hermione, who loved puzzles and languages, seemed to be elsewhere, her eyes looking past the sheets of paper instead of at them. She always loved doing these together, of course, that wasn't the first clue something was wrong. She'd been off since they'd found the Finch-Fletchly boy..._no, earlier than that_, he thought.

"I'm fine, Dad," Hermione offered a weak smile that didn't touch her eyes. "Though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about you. You don't look like you've slept much either."

"I'm fine, love," he sighed mussing her hair. "You know, I don't believe either of us are old enough yet for the child to be the carer."

He hadn't been sleeping either. Sprout was rightly paranoid about the mandrakes' maturation, meaning she wanted to handle their care herself. Severus had himself stole into the night to survey the mandrakes himself, several times. It wasn't that he didn't trust Padmona Sprout, but rather that he had to see it himself. If his lie didn't work, he had to know that Hermione would be fine if she was attacked. He couldn't even start the damn potion till they were ready, so that was all he could do.

The Creevey boy's camera was the only physical evidence he had. He thought maybe something that could petrify a ghost would narrow it down. He even asked the houseelves about the banging in the pipes. It was more frequent this year, but it started back in September and none of them heard it on Hallowe'en. Until more evidence came, he was stumped. He mused on the four victims and the scenes each were found in, but found no common trait. Unless the camera, Sir Nicholas and flooding all-He was most concerned with how it opened. They had to catch the culprit before things got worse. The creature might not matter if it could be reawakened by its master after fifty years. Despite Hagrid being framed for the opening back then, Hagrid had no clue who did the framing.

Hermione absently stoked the flames staring as the kindling cracked and popped and the orange tendrils danced around her fire poker. She set the poker down and spread her hands out, bathing in the warm orange glow, absorbing whatever warmth she could. She closed her eyes but she didn't look any relieved, huddled on the hearth, but troubled. Whatever weighed on her mind, it was serious. _  
_

_I remember when I thought her biggest problem would be bullies or boys. No, I never truly thought that, but still, how I wish that were actually the case... _Severus summoned a blanket and wrapped it over her shivering shoulders.

"Thanks, Dad," she said in a quiet voice, eyes not leaving the flames, clutching and unclutching the blanket.

"I'm certain whatever you're thinking of has nothing to do with a ten-letter word for a festive flowering plant," he sighed patting her head. "What's going on inside that little head of yours?"

Hermione was silent for a moment before clutching the blanket at her throat and sighing. "It's probably all mental, anyway."

"Well," he said with a shrug. "I imagine it is all mental, given that it's going on inside the mind."

"Ugh, Dad," Hermione groaned burying her face in her hands. "I'm _twelve _and I know that was _terrible!"_

"Sorry, love," he ran his hand through her hair. "But I'm obliged to subject you to bad jokes until I die. It's in the contract all fathers sign when they have children."

"Pretty sure the fine print says adolescent children are equally as obliged to roll their eyes and groan," Hermione lifted her head from her hands with a slight laugh.

Her retort might have meant she let her guard down, which meant she might actually tell him whatever she was thinking. The laugh, however weak, helped cement that theory, he just had to be delicate. _I also remember a time where I didn't have to think about conversations with my _daughter _in terms of extracting information. Oh, baby girl, I wish you had never gotten involved with that boy..._

"So, what has you so troubled?" he asked. "Is it, I wonder, that you, for whatever reason, decided to disregard my warnings and continued to look into the attacks?"

Hermione's faint smile disappeared and she turned her gaze to her clasped hands. "Colin was- _is_\- a decent person. I wasn't overly fond of Justin Finch-Fletchley, but he certainly didn't deserve-and if anything happened to Skylar or Dean-" she took a deep breath. "I just can't stop thinking about it-that's all."

"I wasn't aware you and Mr. Thomas were close," he observed.

"We're amicable," Hermione sighed. "Same as Skylar, not close, but we've interacted enough for me to worry about them-okay, it was once, but putting a face and name to a potential victim makes always makes it so-_real-_I'm not making any sense, am I?" she sighed. "And I keep wondering if Colin would have been attacked if he weren't alone."

"I believe you were in the hospital," he reminded her. "And the boy didn't exactly have other friends, so had you imparted the advice for him not to go anywhere alone, it wouldn't have done any good."

That didn't seem to comfort her. Hermione seemed to always take responsibility for those around her. She was determined to blame herself for everything. He wondered exactly when she decided the weight of the world belonged on her little shoulders, but he couldn't pinpoint it. He could only hope her guilt wouldn't push her to do something incredibly stupid. And hoped it hadn't already, and he feared that might have been the case. _Years ago I went through losing the only person I gave a damn about, don't make me go through that again, little girl. _

Father and daughter sat in silence for what felt an eternity. Severus felt the air grow thicker and colder around them as Hermione stared at her clasped hands, unmoving with the exception her squeezing and releasing fingers. At some point in her childhood she learned not to look people in the eye when she was deep in thought, making her intentions all the more elusive, though the emotions were plain as day. Guilt, anxiousness, sadness all registered in her frame.

"Poinsettia," Hermione muttered once the silence became too much.

_I'll try again tomorrow..._

* * *

"Sorry! I know it's late!" Hermione burst through the door to the toilet.

Crabbe and Goyle should have a few more hours of being unconscious if she calculated their weight right. Seeing Harry and Ron in the over-sized Slytherin robes she pilfered from the laundry said they'd done their job in feeding the two festively iced cauldron cakes laced with a sleeping draught. Hermione originally wanted to give them Draught of the Living Dead, but it would have required even more lying on the inventory forms she done up for her dad, so she had to settle with using her sleeping draughts to re-accustom her to diurnal life. She didn't like using them anyway. She had no control over her own mind during sleep, she didn't know how anyone could stand it.

"I thought you were going to tell him you were sick!" Ron hissed.

"Sorry!" Hermione backed away from Ron and clasped her hands. "I didn't want him getting suspicious!"

"Will you two _stop_?" Harry let out an exasperated sigh glaring at both of them. "You two are always having a row about this or that. _Not the time, mates!" _

"I know," Hermione sighed. "I'll change then we'll take the potion."

Hermione invited the boys into the cubicle moments later feeling like a five-year-old swimming in Millicent's robes. She poured the potion into three separate cups and surreptitiously added the hairs to each serving. Millicent's turned an acidic yellow that reminded her of cat-vomit, Goyle's an uneven khaki that no liquid should ever be. A strange anxiety filled her looking at it, thinking about its texture, Hermione wanted to make her own 'essence du Millicent Bulstrode' as Ron called it. Crabbe's deepened in colour, but still reminded her of mud, so it didn't illicit the same visceral reaction. She bit her lip and stared at her cup, her stomach churning.

"Cheers?" she squeaked.

"Erm," Harry said. "I reckon we won't all fit here once where done. Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode all are, erm-"

"Fat?" Ron finished.

_"Ron!"_ Hermione hissed.

"Oh, come _off_ it, Hermione!" Ron groaned. "Why should I speak nice about the bitch who tried to strangle you? Or Malfoy's lackeys? I swear you're nicer those Slytherin gits than your actual _friends!"_

Hermione didn't have a response to that. Was he right? Hermione was abrasive with Ron...but _fat? _They had no control over their appearance, and as the only ugly person in their social group she got offended vicariously. There were plenty of _fair _things to mock them about. They were bullies, cruel and..._hurt people hurt people...no that's not an excuse!_

"Sorry, Ron," she sighed staring into the yellow mixture in her cup.

"Harry's right, anyway," Ron mumbled. "Let's take it in different cubicles."

The three of them counted down and downed their potions as quickly as possible. Hermione wanted to gag, but held it down in time for a searing pain to rip through her body. Every cell burned with pain. It felt eerily similar to Violet Vane's transfiguration. At least her bones stayed in place, but the pain still drove her to her knees, she stared at her hands and noted something went drastically wrong.

Black fur aggressively sprouted on the backs of her hands and arms. She didn't get Millicent's hair-she got hair from her cat! She felt fur sprout from her face and whiskers from her cheeks as a familiar pain encompassed her ears, she knew they were morphing into pointed, fury triangles and moving to the top of her head. Was it that or the formation of the tail that hurt more. She sobbed whether in pain form the morphing or the embarrassment that she could be so damn stupid as to not check the hair, she didn't know any more.

"So, Millicent isn't pretty," Crabbe's voice groaned outside the cubicle door. "This was your idea!"

"Come on, Hermione," Goyle's voice said more gently-that must've been Harry. "It'll be alright. What's-"

"Something went wrong," she squeaked. "We don't have time for me to f-figure it out, you two have to go now!"

* * *

_Just get it over with, you stupid piece of shit! _she berated herself and opened the cubicle door.

She knew exactly what happened to her, but when she caught her reflection in the mirror it felt more real. Her face was completely covered in the same black fur as her hands, her facial features were not like last time, last time she looked more human, but her face was that of a cat's, nose, mouth, and large lamp-yellow eyes with white whiskers poking out of her eyebrows and upper lip. Pointed black ears protruded from her now black, bushy hair. She thought she might sob at this again, but instead she simply felt frustrated. She just gotten out of the hospital for being a weird cat-girl-thing. This was a product of her own carelessness, she should have ripped hair directly from Millicent's head...

"Oh, come _on_!" she cried stamping her foot.

_Those boys had better get that information!_

"_You have a tail! AGAIN!" _Myrtle's shrill voice filled the air as she glided around her. "I can't wait till everyone sees you're a cat-freak again! Do you _want _to be a cat, Hermione?"

"I'm sure it looks like it," she grumbled. "I'm getting changed into something that isn't falling off me."

"Cat-freak!" Myrtle sang.

Hermione waited for the boys to return, reading and rereading the passage on Polyjuice Potion. Nothing mentioned animal transformations. It was useless! She kept combing it, looking for answers, even looking for other potions for indicators. Stubborn tears sprang to her eyes again as the realization came upon her that no matter how many-times she read through this book she would never have the answers she needed.

"Hermio-" Harry's voice called, but cut off.

She looked up at Harry, his now wide green eyes behind specs again and his once again thin frame a swimming in Goyle's robes. Ron, too, was himself again from his giant blue eyes and gaping ruddy mouth, similarly swimming in Crabbe's robes.

Shock registered on their faces as Myrtle howled with laughter.

"Tell me he confessed," Hermione pleaded. "If you got a confession, everything, everything will have been worth it."

There was a silence, both Harry and Ron exchanged a pained look before turning their eyes downward.

"No, no, no," Hermione started pacing nervously, wringing her hands. "Shit! I can't-this-"

"Hermione," Harry held up his hands like he was speaking to a panicked animal. "How did this happen?"

"Millicent must have a cat," Hermione sighed. "I grabbed a fucking cat hair! After all of that!"

"I mean, it's only temporary," Harry offered. "Just stay here until-"

"It's only meant for human transformations, Harry!" Hermione cried before evening her tone. "Sorry. I-I don't know how long I'll be a cat-freak. There's _nothing_ in the book about animal mishaps."

"It's okay!" Ron said quickly. "We'll just take you to the hospital and everything will be fine. Madam Pomfrey doesn't ask questions."

_"She_ doesn't ask questions," Hermione continued her mad pacing and touched her face and gestured to her whiskers. "But what am I supposed to do with the fifteen centimetres of 'my-dad's-going-to-kill-me' growing out of my face!"

"After what happened in November he might buy you were attacked again?" Ron offered. "Pin it on Malfoy, I'd love to see him taken down a peg after tonight!"

"That won't happen," Hermione sighed. "What exactly did he say?"

"That he wants the heir to confide in him," Harry spat in disgust. "You should have heard him! '_I can help him! I heard a mudblood died last time! Too bad it wasn't that Potter fanboy Creevy'. _Are you certain Snape won't expel him for attacking you? I think everyone's better off with him gone-at least muggle-borns are."

"He _always _knows when I'm lying..." she admitted. "I have no clue how I've been raised by someone who lies all the bloody time and haven't managed to learn a damn thing!"

"I mean," Harry said in defense of her father for the first and she imagined only time. "After what we overheard about your mum, I guess I see why."

"Can we _not _talk about Sato, please?!" Hermione clasped her furry hands and stared at them. Of all the things to talk about on their way to the wing, this was not what she wanted to speak about. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap...I just-that woman-"

"Look on the bright side, Hermione," Ron said putting an arm around her shoulders. "At least now you have proof none of those rumours are true. The creature can't go after you now, right?"

"It's not as if the whole school knows, or that it can use legillimency or-" _unless it can. The timing... "I'm going to make this as painless as possible"..._ "That son of a bitch!"


	30. B2:Ch14: Decisions and Disappointments

"I can't believe that girl!" Severus snapped to an empty room.

Hermione was admitted to the hospital last night after becoming a strange cat-hybrid once more. This was entirely different than the failed transfiguration that she was trying to undo. The tawny and brown tabby features, the long haired tail, all seemed to match what she might look like as a cat, but the matching yellow eyes and short black fur seemed to be features of another cat. Something that combined with Crabbe and Goyle being found in a cupboard supported the theory that she'd tried her hand at a polyjuice potion to infiltrate Slytherin House. It was incredibly advanced, but if she and either Potter or Weasley tried to impersonate them, that's what she would have gone for. Did she not think he could put two and two together?

_"You woke up like this? And I suppose it's just a coincidence Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were found locked in a cupboard last night?"_

_"The three of us aren't exactly popular, are we?" she asked soothing the hair on her twitching tail.  
_

_"And still I feel you're not telling me something," he folded his arms over his chest. "The sooner you tell me the easier this will be."_

_Hermione fell silent and her eyes stayed on her tail as she tried to keep it from telegraphing her mood._

_"Fine!" he snapped. "We can add this to the list of things that could have been avoided if you trusted me!"_

That conversation went about as well as throwing one's pet goldfish into a tank of sharks. It was a disaster. She was angry with him before he even reached her. Of course, he was left to guess why it was, as always. Perhaps she was just guarded because she knew she was in trouble. But it was more than just nerves. His whole life, Severus was able to pride himself in one thing, his intelligence, and he couldn't decipher the moods of his own daughter. Why did it seem she was forever angry with him?

"Why does she have to do this?!" he sighed tidying the stack of papers on the table. "She could have told me she thought someone in Slytherin was responsible. It's not as if I'm the head of the house and am privy to information she doesn't have! I gave that girl every bloody opportunity to do so! I could have told her she was wasting her time and could have avoided this! Must everything be so difficult with her? Why doesn't she-" he looked around the empty room and deflated into a chair with a sigh. "_Who am I even talking to?!"_

This wasn't the first time he'd found himself talking to the air, and it wouldn't be the last. He disgusted the closest thing he had to a friend and had so little success in being included that he stopped trying a long time ago. All he had was his daughter, and when it was her he wanted to talk about, that posed an issue. Not only that, but he knew better than to burden a child so young with the ruminations of an admittedly emotionally unstable adult. And, he loathed the idea of being vulnerable to anyone, particularly her. She was supposed to look up to him-but that ship sailed a long time ago.

He looked to the corner of the room to see Archimedes dosing on his perch, how many times had he admonished or teased Hermione for speaking to the damn bird like he was a person? Was it worse that he vented his concerns to the void or better? The hypocrisy might have been amusing if the thought hadn't led to the conclusion that until very recently the girl was perhaps as lonely as he had been. He should have known better than to keep her to himself in her early childhood. He didn't like to bother with introspection, but was her well-being _really _his only concern? Why was he asking himself this _now_? When the damage was already done?

But the damage couldn't have been so extensive. She, despite all his fears, had managed to find friends, and though he often felt she wasn't given half the respect she deserved, it was becoming harder to convince himself they only wanted to use her for help or for an emotional punching-bag. _Though would she only value herself based on utility if that wasn't the case? _

Were other parents this lost or was he simply hopeless? Once again, he wondered if adopting Hermione eleven years ago was irresponsible. He cherished every moment he had with her-almost every moment-and he loved her, but had he'd done right by her? She was a very sweet child, someone else might have adopted her. Someone who wasn't afraid to tell her who she was. No, he had a good reason for lying about that. But it could have been someone who actually knew how to be a parent. Now through no fault of hers, she was stuck with him.

_But it wasn't all bad, was it? _Severus had thousands of little memories; her beaming up at him and running into his arms when he came home, quiet evenings doing cross-words, stargazing, playing cards or reading together, "rescuing" her when she climbed too high in a tree or on a shelf, tucking her in and reading a bed time story, her little giggles at his poor attempts at voices when he did so. Surely she remembered those moments as fondly as he did?

"What do I do now?" he sighed.

The four stone walls, furniture and owl offered him no answers.

_Stupid piece of shit..._

* * *

"Sorry, Severus," Pince said in an indifferent tone. "Looks like that was signed out back in November."

_I fucking knew it! That girl is in _so _much trouble when she's discharged! _"I see," he spoke in a casual even tone. "By whom?"

Pince read her short list of Restricted Section sign-outs. "Gilderoy Lockhart gave Harry Potter permission to sign the book out for an essay on slow-acting venoms. But he'll return it this week...or else."

Pince's empty threats meant little to him, there was little she could do but scold the boy. He recalled returning an overdue book at Hermione's age certain that suffering Pince's displeasure was to be a horrific experience, and to his relief she couldn't do so much as assign a detention. However, Potter signing the book out meant his Polyjuice potion theory was correct. He wondered if she _really _thought he wouldn't draw the connection between Potter signing out the book and her using it. Though he supposed if she'd succeeded he'd never have known.

She'd tried to pass it off as an attack, and using her actual attack to suggest she was likely to be a victim of such spell-work in the future was low he had not thought her capable of. Despite her refusal to name names, he knew who each girl was now, and none of them were at Hogwarts over the holidays. Hermione had seriously underestimated him. How often children see their parents as idiots.

"I see," he said. "I shall return next week then. Thank you."

* * *

_Hermi-chan!_

_How was your holiday? Kaori and I went back to Tokyo with Mama, her parents and Osofu-san to celebrate. Well, Osofu-san begrudgingly, he doesn't quite understand the tradition of decorating a tree or Christmas cake. "Muggles, no offense, Minako-chan, so happy to engage in all the Western trappings then ring the bell on New Year's Day. It's one thing if you're there! But here?" They have that conversation every year, Mama just nods at this point. Jiji and Baba know about magic (much to Osofu-san's dismay!) but they also stay out of it.  
_

_ Oh, we picked up the worst cake! I don't know how we managed it, but we all woke up feeling disgusting Christmas morning! We threw out what was left and skipped going out for dinner Christmas night. Which the cats were none too thrilled, we normally feed them a bit of chicken and they somehow knew to be disappointed about this. Other than that, our holiday has been fun. I finally beat Kaori at Go! You should have seen the look on her face! Though it wasn't particularly long lasting because Mochi jumped up on the board and knocked over all of the pieces. It was funny.  
_

_Kaori still hasn't told Mama or any of our grandparents about Anya, and Baba's keeps telling her that she needs a boyfriend...so, I've kept quiet. It's strange, no one in school seemed to have a problem with her and Anya, but telling Mama seems nerve wracking to her. Though I remember Saiyaka didn't want anyone to know either, so maybe Kaori being "Perfecto-chan" isn't guard enough for the grown-ups. _

_Luckily, being thirteen (nearly fourteen!) and a boy, I've not faced such pressures. _

_Sayaika, Toshio and Miyuki are coming up on New Year's to travel with us to school. We'll have two days to make whatever mischief we see fit! Though it'll be less fun without you, Anya and Sam. One summer and I still see the seven of us as a unit. How crazy is that?_

_Can't wait to hear back!_

_Love,_

_Hiro-kun!_

* * *

Hermione began penning her reply, thankful for the distraction. She was so happy that Hiro saw her as part of the group after only one month together, but the two had pulled each other through an extremely lonely and difficult time through their letters before they even met. Hermione would forever be grateful, and felt pride that even with everything that happened, she never fell out of writing weekly as she had done last year. She had come dangerously close, but she couldn't let herself disappoint Hiro again. That she could do while trapped once more in the hospital.

She heard familiar footsteps and rolled her eyes as the _last_ person she wanted to see at the moment approached her. With no students aside from Harry the Weasleys, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, there were no students, meaning that his visiting times could be more unpredictable. Last time she was in the hospital she was never surprised. And her ability to prepare herself was non-existent. At least her behaviour didn't shift this time.

"You must think I'm stupid," her father spoke in icy tones.

_I could say the same to you! _"No, sir," she clasped her hands together and steadied her breathing. _Don't do anything stupid. He'll never admit to his lie..._

"I'm confused," he tapped his chin as he looked up in a show of pensiveness.

_YOU'RE confused? _she thought bitterly, digging her nails into her hands and staring at them rather than him. _Did someone you're supposed to be able to trust lie to you about where you came from? I was an idiot to_ ever_ trust you again! _

"You see," he began after a moment of silence. Clearly he thought she was going to respond to him. "I can't think of who would possible want to attack you out of the students here. You're not popular, yes, but the students here over the holiday all either like you or would leave you alone for fear of expulsion. Though I doubt you did this to yourself on purpose."

Hermione tried to think of anything and once again had the white bear problem, thinking about the exact thing she didn't want to think of. Though she kept her eyes fixed on her hands. She wondered if her cat features were as easy for him to read as her human ones. Or if he _was _breaking into her mind at these times. He waited again for her to speak. She stayed silent. He was always telling her to be silent anyway, he couldn't blame her for doing so.

"Indeed, I find it all very perplexing," he said coolly. "For you to do this by yourself by accident, well, you would have to botch some very advanced magic. And I don't see you trying to transfigure yourself while still healing from the last time. And _why _you would do it...I simply can't imagine Crabbe and Goyle being found locked in a cupboard have nothing to do with it. I do wonder how they're connected?"

_Just get it over with, _Hermione bit her lip and dug her nails further into her skin. How could she be so angry with him and still so nervous? She thought she finally found the courage that she was supposed to have as a Gryffindor. Hermione didn't take the gap to speak. She had two options if she spoke, outright lie and make things worse or admit to her own involvement and have her words used against her. And if she spoke, she thought it might betray the hurricane of emotions brewing inside her. No one was going to see the mess she was, least of all her father.

"That's when I went to the library to and found a particular book was signed out by Potter. _Potions Moste Potente,_ which contains instructions to make which potion?"

_You never ask for my input this much! _Hermione thought bitterly and kept her eyes on her hands.

"Polyjuice Potion!" he snapped after she failed to answer him. "Do you know what I think? I think you, Potter and Weasley have been plotting behind our backs to infiltrate Slytherin and weasel an admission out of your suspect. Did it not occur to you little idiots that I would have put a stop to it by now if it were happening right under my nose?"

Hermione was familiar with this game now. She would wait for her father to get to the point and keep her mouth shut. There was nothing she could say, even if she trusted her voice not to waver, that would stop him. His mood swings could be tempered, either he would soften on his own or he would after she agreed to whatever he said. Hermione was a patient girl, she could wait. She was used to this, wait for her father's mood to change, wait for her turn to speak, wait for her friends to listen to her, and she could definitely wait for his forgiveness. He _lied _to her about _her mother. _Had he any idea how much that letter shook her? How many years she wondered if she were abandoned? That man had no idea how long Hermione could carry a grudge, and he deserved it! _So, why do I feel so guilty?_

"Have you _anything _to say for yourself?!" he asked in icy tones that sent chills down her spine. "No?" he said after a silence. "Nothing at all? Or are you hoping that if you ignore me long enough I'll simply go away? Merlin, Hermione, say _something!"_

Hermione inhaled sharply and dug her nails deeper into the backs of her hands. "I didn't want anyone else getting hurt."

"And you and Potter thought it better to investigate the matter yourselves rather than come to us, is that it? You don't trust us." He seethed. "I _raised _you and _you _don't trust _me_!"

That last part renewed the icy, disappointed tones that Hermione dreaded since she was little. He was the one in the wrong, and he didn't care, but Hermione's guilt intensified at his tone. It always worked. Since she could remember she had always hated the idea that she had somehow disappointed him. That she _was _a disappointment to him.

"You don't even deny it," he sighed. "I'll leave you be for now. But I do hope you're capable of reflecting on _why _this happened!"

She watched him walk away and buried the part of her that wanted to call him back and apologize.

* * *

"Hi, Hermione!" Luna greeted her.

Luna perched herself on the foot of Hermione's bed cross-legged, smiling broadly at her. "I think I liked it better last time, you looked more like you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked. "I'll ask the next person who attacks me to keep your preferences in mind. But I thought you liked cats."

"I do," she smiled vaguely scratching behind Hermione's ear.

"L-Luna!" she choked lightly swatting her hand away. "At this point I should just change my name to Tabby and move into the forest."

"That sounds fun!" Luna laughed. "We can look for your fellow cat-brethren together!"

"Sounds like a plan!"Hermione giggled. "I'll start saving spoons for my escape. How was your holiday?"

"Wonderful! Daddy and I are certain we found Snow-Fairy droppings among the snow crystals. Next year, we'll find them, I'm sure! I can't wait! How was yours?"

"You're looking at it," Hermione sighed. "Any luck getting Ravenclaws to carry mirrors?"

Luna's smile faded and she sighed. "I'm not the most credible person. Marietta Edgecombe found me checking around corners and made fun of me. I told her and the girls she was with to read the bulletin and that we're better petrified than killed and that there was a basilisk slithering around the pipes. They laughed."

"No better luck with Hufflepuff," an even Welsh voice said from her side.

O'Malley and Skylar both stood at her bedside, Skylar looking rather defeated and O'Malley clenched his jaw in anger. Luna came back from holidays looking quite bright and happy, even after the mishap with Marietta Edgecombe. O'Malley and Skylar both lacked that rejuvenated look, as if the three weeks being at home didn't give them respite. Though, it might not.

"Slytherins think themselves immune," O'Malley agreed. "How about your end, sunshine?"

"If I told you I'm not talking to him right now-" Hermione started feeling as though shame would make her blush through her fur.

"I'd say you're being selfish," O'Malley snapped.

"O'Malley," Skylar hissed.

"It was your idea she bring her theory to the teachers, and frankly, I think you're right! You told me in class that if any of us are safe coming forward, it's her!"

Hermione shrank, she knew they were right. But fabricating a mother just to shake the suspicion she _might _be muggleborn? There were other muggleborns roaming around quite happy as they were. Was it so terrible to let Hermione know one damn thing? She couldn't explain it to anyone. She'd always been upset about his refusal to tell her a damn thing about her origins, but actively lying, that-that was just _cruel_. The worst part was, she knew he thought he was doing the right thing. Well, the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by Luna taking her hand in hers. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

"I'm fine," Hermione shrugged.

* * *

"He'd never take you seriously!" Ron protested when Hermione said she was considering telling her father her theory. "You know he wouldn't."

Harry nodded. "I reckon he'd just yell at you and call you mad again. It's a waste of time."

"All it'll do is get us in trouble," Ron said.

Harry rolled his eyes "And more importantly the professors will just try and stop us from figuring it out while doing nothing themselves."

Hermione closed the book in her lap and stared at her two friends. Both making as much sense as the others had, leaving Hermione to wonder what the hell she was supposed to do. She thought back to the stone; had they reacted to the suspicion someone was trying to steal it? Dumbledore only came as a last minute rescue, McGonagall failed to do anything but threaten to take points away, and her father failed to stop Quirrell. For all his insistence that he and the other adults were more capable than they were, they'd done nothing.

_And you're just more comfortable not approaching him because you're upset..._ She admitted to herself. Skylar may or may not have been right in thinking telling someone was the best idea, but O'Malley was right in calling her selfish. She didn't know how to talk to him anymore, and she didn't want to do whatever mental or emotional work it required.

"You're right," she admitted. "But there is one way you can get answers."

"Are going to tell us this century?" asked Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Moaning Myrtle was the muggleborn witch that died when it opened last. Get her to talk to you. If she can tell us who did it last time, we can track down their descendant. Or maybe find the opening. We can find out how to put a bunch roosters in the opening or see if we can pull a Medusa on it once we figure that out."

"A giant mirror and a bunch of roosters don't sound very practical..." Harry ventured. "Maybe Ron and I'll hit the library, maybe we'll find some kind of vulnerability."

"Good luck," Hermione nodded. "I've not had much in that department."

* * *

Weeks passed and Hermione's mood failed to improve with her condition. Severus had no idea a twelve-year-old could commit to a silent-treatment for as long as that. Let alone Hermione, who so often felt the need to apologize for the actions of those in close proximity to her that he was certain she would have apologized by now. He still didn't know what the hell he did to earn her ire. Unless she found out about..._No, that can't be it! There is one way I can know for sure...No! That's only for when she might be in danger, you stupid piece of shit!_

Nearly every time he came by Luna Lovegood was with her, or else her other friends. He noticed a huge difference the number of times that he dropped by between each visitor he walked in on. Potter and Weasley spoke with her in hushed tones that ceased as soon as she indicated she heard his footsteps, the three solemn and serious. Often Lovegood would hang back and leap to speak with her as soon as the boys left. O'Malley and Sloan often joined Lovegood in her visits, and once again hushed tones and a point of tension could be sensed, even after conversations ceased. If Hermione was with Lovegood alone, the two would speak more freely about something or other and it was the only time Hermione seemed at ease. She wasn't bursting with laughter like Lovegood, but she wasn't tensing every muscle of her body, at least not until she caught sight of him. He couldn't deny that hurt.

"Yessir," Hermione answered simply when he asked if she had been keeping up.

'Yessir' and 'No, sir' were the extent of her interactions with him when she could help it. Sadly an improvement from the nods, head shakes and shrugs he'd grown accustomed to over the month. She was mostly human at this point, her fur and whiskers completely gone and her hair had returned to its usual brown and her were very nearly back to their original brown, though one stubbornly darkened at a slower rate, and black cat ears and a tail remained. He expected her to be in higher spirits knowing she'd be out of the hospital soon. The truth was, where she was still healing from the effects of the failed transfiguration while the potion mishap happened, both he and Pomfrey worried it would be much longer than mid-February for her to be released.

"So you'll be starting the core classes at fourth year when you return," he reminded her. "And you'll have to consider electives. Have you put any thought into them?"

_She'll have to answer with more than-_

"Yessir," she nodded.

_Damn it. _"And?" he prompted. "Have you-rather which ones have you decided on taking?"

"All of them," she shrugged.

He suddenly saw Hermione burning out at an alarming speed as she tried to take two years' worth of six electives along with the second, third and fourth year course work of her six core classes. Though in her time stuck in hospital she had at least completed all the papers and tests for her current level and most of the third year level. It still was something that he thought was unhealthy. "That's not a good idea. You won't have the time. Most of them will be unnecessary for you anyway."

"Why do you say that?" she asked with a sudden challenge to her voice.

_Does everything I say offend you now? Fuck! _"You're not exactly going to be using Care for Magical Creatures as a librarian now, are you?"

Hermione forgot she was avoiding looking at him for an instant. Her face fell with her ears as she regarded him with a strange mixture of anger and disappointment that sent chills through him. A familiar pair of impulses warred within him; he wanted to comfort her and earn her forgiveness, but he also wanted to ask her where the hell she got off? Why could he do nothing right?

"When have I _ever _said I wanted to be a librarian?" she asked.

She didn't. He assumed she did. It was a decent, safe job, she loved books, languages and maths and she could have done it at Hogwarts. Though the safety and proximity to him was admittedly something he seemed to care more for than her. But still, would it be so bad? And why was she so damn angry that he made an assumption many would have?

"Not a librarian then," he sighed. "What then?" _Please say teacher...or even healer, that's safe._

"I have no idea," she admitted with a sigh.

_Then why the hell were you so damn upset about me suggesting librarian?! _"I see. So, you're just looking to keep your options open?"

"Yessir."

"Can I get more than two syllables explaining why you think this is a good idea?" he seethed.

"N-" Hermione sighed and buried her face in her hands. "I have no clue what I want to do," she said in careful even tones after resurfacing. "Percy Weasley has twelve OWLs, so it can't be _that _hard."

"Percy Weasley and others like him took correspondence courses over the summer," he explained. "Something that wouldn't necessarily help you even if you weren't advancing given that you'll be in Japan."

Hermione's eyebrows knit in confusion and her surprise took the edge from her voice. "Wait, but that seems awfully unfair to muggle-borns."

"Life's not fair, love," he said thinking back to hearing that complaint twenty years ago.

_"I can't believe it!" Lily cried. "I've worked my arse off and they won't let me take all the electives because of their stupid rules about minors casting. If my parents were wizards they'd let me do it! This is disgusting!"_

_"I mean, twelve classes all at once does sound difficult," he offered. "Maybe it's not a bad thing you can't-"_

_"It's not just about the classes, Severus!" she snapped._

_"Then what is it, Lily?"_

_"Oh, forget it!"_

It took him eight years, but he understood why Lily was upset then and why Hermione's rage shifted from him to the system that kept muggle-born witches and wizards down now. Hermione, despite being raised by him, managed to be a decent person. He was proud of that, it wasn't easy for her, but did she have to be so damn..._stupid _about it? Why was she so stubborn to hurt herself? Whether it be in her attempts help others, or simply her drive to achieve academically, it seemed the girl thought she had to suffer or her attempts weren't good enough. He _told _her that it was self-destructive. Though it seemed Hermione had now entered that charming little period of life where his words were as good as poison. _I thought I had more time..._

* * *

"Can I move now?" Hermione sighed casting an eye to Luna.

"Nope," Luna said lightly, looking up from her sketch book.

"Please, Luna?" Hermione batted her long lashes in a teasing manner.

"Fine," Luna sighed closing her sketchbook, but her grin betrayed her attempt at a put-upon tone.

Luna had been to see her almost every time she wasn't in class before curfew. She wondered again if Luna knew how contagious her bright mood was. Hermione would be ruminating on some conversation with Harry and Ron or O'Malley and Skylar and all she had to do was smile and Hermione could forget for an instance how dark everything was. She now looked for the swaying dirty blonde hair and skip-like gait when she heard light footsteps. Though she couldn't help but wonder how or when things would go wrong.

"L-Luna!" Hermione giggled playfully swatting the hand scratching behind her ear away.

"Okay, okay," Luna laughed. "I'll stop. Any sightings of secret meetings in the hospital wing at night?"

"I promise if there was a secret cabal of wizards running everything they wouldn't meet in a school hospital wing," Hermione rolled her eyes. "But I'll take notes if they do!"

Hermione had a love-hate relationship with Luna's outlandish claims. When it came to fake creatures she could forgive it, and found it endearing at times, but the more conspiratorial ones were harder to handle. And she could never tell what she sincerely believed and what she was throwing out there to lighten the mood or break a silence. Though if it were published in the _Quibbler, _Luna revered it as true gospel. She felt the need to defend her father's claims no matter how mad. Hermione could relate to defending someone from hatred of the masses, but if she blindly believed everything _her _father said to meet that end...

"Do you think you'll come back to the _Herald_? It was fun when were doing it, but it was more fun with you." Luna twirled a bit of her hair.

"Well, it's not that I don't want to-" Hermione started, clasping her hands.

Hermione heard Ron and Harry approaching with an urgent gait and buried her face in her hands. "Isn't their timing perfect?"

"It's okay, Hermione," Luna smiled clasping her sketchbook to her chest and tucking her wand behind her ear. "I can come back."

"I don't want you to feel like you need to-"

"I'll be back," Luna scratched behind her ear with a smile. "You're not exactly going anywhere, are you?-Hi, Harry! Hi, Ron!"

"I think she's been in to see you more than anyone else," Ron commented watching her skip away. "Does she have _any _other friends?"

"Skylar and O'Malley," Hermione lied rolling her eyes. _If those two gave her a chance. _"What's up?"

"We thought we'd try to talk to Myrtle again," Harry explained. "We had no luck getting her to speak, but we found a diary. Do you recognize the name T.M Riddle? Ron reckons he does, but can't place it, and you did all that archival research."

"T.M Riddle..." Hermione mused. She didn't think she'd come across the name at all. "Sorry," she shrugged. "As soon as I'm out of here I'll hit the archives."

"Will you have time?" Ron nudged the mountain of books and parchment neatly stacked and sorted on her bedside cabinet. "You were stuck in the hospital for half the year and it looks like you have _more _work than the rest of us. You should have said you had to focus on getting better."

"And feed into everyone's perceptions that I'm some frail little girl?" Hermione tried to keep her voice even. "I'll keep up with anything given to me. Can I see the diary?"

Harry dug it out of his school bag and handed it to her.

She'd seen it before. The wavy lined paper between the hard cover, the faded bits of the cover, the dimensions..."This looks like Ginny's diary!" she whispered. "I've seen her carry it around."

"Ginny didn't get her diary from a muggle book shop, Hermione," Ron groaned. "And that's certainly not her name!"

"Maybe it looks like her diary?" Harry offered. "It's completely empty."

It could just look like it. Hermione could be wrong. She was simply putting too much weight into one break down. What if someone had suspected her of being involved in something like this because they caught her in the middle of a breakdown. And Ginny wrote in her diary every night, it wouldn't be empty. And Ron surely would recognise his own sister's diary. Her father knew what hers looked like, which made Hermione uncomfortable enough to write her journal in code. _Shit!_

"Unless it's invisible ink!" Hermione opened the journal with her wand and whispered the incantation. _Now I want to be wrong..._

The page remained blank. Hermione felt her heart fall as answers she'd fantasized about being revealed remained elusive. No matter what they tried, they never got any closer to finding the culprit or the opening. The week and a half Hermione was out of the hospital should have been spent more on getting Myrtle to talk. Hermione should have known Myrtle wouldn't take divided attention and the thing dividing Hermione's attention was worthless!

"It was worth a shot," Ron shrugged.

Hermione bit her lip and turned her eyes to the foot of her bed and found a red, rubbery prisim among the folds. "Luna," she sighed. "She forgot her rev-oh, shit!"

"Hermione..." Harry looked at her like she had gone mad.

"It's a revealer," Hermione explained. "Luna has all sorts of things like these. If I just-" she rubbed it on the page like an eraser. "Damn it!"

A blank page stared back at Hermione, taunting her. She flipped to the dates and realized that the diary was fifty years old. "You're right, it can't be Ginny's. Even if she got a diary second hand, it wouldn't be so old. But it's from the time the last the chamber opened. There has to be _something!_"

"Ron and I will keep working on it," Harry whispered pocketing it. "You have enough on your plate."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Focus on getting better. I think I forget what you look like without cat-ears and a tail!"

Hermione bit her lip and dug her nails into her hands. _Don't be too upset, he means well...Well-meant! Well-meant is why your father doesn't trust you with your own damn origins! Well-meant bought you weeks in a hospital with no answers! No, no you don't get be angry. Not with them..._

"Are you okay?" Harry asked looking over his shoulder and back to her.

"I'm fine," Hermione forced a smile.

* * *

"That's a bad idea," McGonagall said what everyone else in the staffroom thought.

_Thank you,_ Severus thought. He'd been overly vocal of his objections, so letting others field their complaints first might mean the staff would take them seriously. He already knew his application for the position would be overlooked next year, so he wondered if he could compile a list of better candidates. He didn't want his daughter anywhere near someone so dangerously oblivious. He wondered if it was even possible for Dumbledore to make a worse choice.

"The kids will love it!" Lockhart argued still smiling. "Teen girls especially adore this stuff. Aren't girls always going on about love potions and charms? I bet it'll perk their moods right up!"

Severus could already imagine Hermione's list of complaints and imagined she'd take up the quill once more to call out the teachers who went along with it. He wouldn't blame her if she did. Why were people socialized to think love spells and potions were romantic? It sickened him how prevalent and unchecked they were. Accepted as something foolish teenagers did, neglecting the very real consequences after the fact.

They debated the merits, as if there were any, and he could sense the others getting fed up with Lockhart's insistence, McGonagall rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses regretting that she ever agreed to field his suggestions when Dumbledore was busy with more important matters. Sprout and Flitwick exchanged exhausted looks while others looked pensive. Like it was harmless and not worth the argue.

"It won't surprise you," he said rubbing his temples. "That I'm not in favour of the idea either. As a teacher I feel it immoral and as a parent-I don't want to find out my daughter was either a perpetrator or a victim. I'm not keen on helping make either a possibility."

Lockhart's lips formed a think crooked line and his blue eyes drifted to a far corner of the ceiling. He seemed surprised at the mention of victims and perpetrators rather than "irresponsible" and "in poor taste". Likely something he didn't want to think of as someone who welcomed all adoration no matter how it was earned. The frank language seemed to make him uncomfortable.

"Perhaps, we should intimate that they're not supposed to use them," Lockhart said after a silence. "Vote?"

_You should be used to being outvoted by now..._

* * *

Hermione was finally released mid-February and was welcomed back to Gryffindor Tower by a flurry of "help me with my homework" requests. She expected as much from Neville, but Ron and Harry _knew _she had other shit to do! She obliged all the same.

"Oh!" Lavender came up to join the four of them. "Is this homework review?"

"This is wonderful, Hermione," Pavarti smiled awkwardly. "We were, erm, kind of lost."

_I just got back! _Hermione wanted to cry but knew sleeping in the same room as them made it difficult. "Pull up a chair," Hermione sighed under reproachful looks from Harry and Ron.

"Seamus! Dean!" Lavender called as the two entered the common room. "Hermione's helping us with Snape's sympathetic magic essay!"

Seamus and Dean sat beside the girls with relieved smiles. They almost seemed happy to see her. Hermione remembered pairing with Dean back in first year for potions and how he dreaded being anywhere near her. Seamus wasn't much better. But now that she was useful...still, they were better than Lavender...

"Let's start with where everyone's lost," Hermione sighed.

Five hours passed and Hermione wound up explaining the concept of sympathetic magic to them all, illustrating examples while biting back her impulse to say "Merlin, it was in the fucking book!". They might all treat her civilly if she was nice about it. And if she had the slightest flare of a temper she'd be compared to her father. And she might have owed them for his behaviour... She hated this. Still she smiled and answered stupid questions cordially. _Questions aren't stupid! Don't be a bitch! _Eventually, she had seven outlines and annotated bibliographies done up for each of them. Her heart thudded in her chest as she broke her cross-reference thrice rule and a knot formed in her stomach. But there was too much, and she started fourth-year classes in the morning and she couldn't afford to fuck up. She wondered if her mind would ever stop telling her it was wrong if she didn't check exactly three times.

"Thanks, Hermione!" Dean sang taking his papers and dashing off.

"Saved our lives!" Seamus agreed taking his and following Dean up to the dorm.

"Erm, thanks, Hermione," Parvarti said. "Normally, I wouldn't have asked but I swear Snape gives us work above level. Anyway, erm, I appreciate it."

She and Lavender disappeared to the girls' dormitory and Hermione noticed Lavender felt no need to thank her after pulling the whole group session on her! It didn't matter, she was tired and done.

"Thanks!" Neville said with more earnesty than the last four. "I tried reading the book and how each element related was hard to parce out. Or I'm just stupid..."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Harry spoke for her.

"No one but Hermione got it," Harry explained. "You're not stupid."

"Yeah, I reckon Parvarti's right!" Ron said. "Snape's a total prat giving us this sort of homework! How he managed to raise a girl like Hermione is beyond me!"

_Why, _Hermione asked herself. _Am I so fucking angry at him yet so angry on his behalf? It's not fair! And you don't get to speculate on my upbringing! _

Neville disappeared upstairs and Hermione rose to go to bed herself when Ron lightly grabbed her wrist.

"Aren't we going to talk about the diary?" he whispered.

"I don't have any theories you don't, Ron," she sighed. "I just got out of hospital and I'm exhausted. Can it wait till morning?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged. "I reckon we can discuss it in charms with all the usual commotion."

_Charms..._"Actually, Harry, Ron, I, erm, won't be charms with you. I've been advanced two years, remember? I start tomorrow."

The two exchanged bewildered looks. Hermione had been working to the bone to balance her class work with the investigation. How could they forget something so huge? Hermione bit her lip and clasped her hands together. It was stupid, but she was both angry and disappointed. She knew their birthdays, food preferences, childhood anecdotes, favourite books, and they couldn't remember she was leaving their class?!

"This is the first time you've mentioned it, Hermione," Harry said quietly.

"That can't be-I've known for months...since November. I'm sure I've mentioned-"

"You didn't," Ron said. "Not once."

"But I-" Hermione swallowed. "I had to have told you at _some _point..."

"You don't think we'd remember something that major, Hermione?" Harry said with an edge to his voice.

_Maybe I didn't...I'd been so busy... _"Maybe I,erm, did, erm, forget to mention it," she admitted with a deep breath, shrinking under the disappointed gazes. "I'm sorry. I'll talk to you guys about the diary tomorrow, I promise."

Hermione went up to the girls' dormitory as the hurricane of thoughts, anxieties and emotions swept through her. Did it make her a bad friend that she'd never mentioned it? And that she forgot she didn't? Was it fair they were mad at her? Was it fair she was mad at them? Was she really being selfish not telling her father about her theory? The teachers would catch wind eventually right? She was still so upset with her father for-well, lying about her damn existence. Maybe that wasn't fair...did her mother _really _matter. _Yes! He lied to me!_

She entered the girls' dormitory and drew back the curtains to her bed to find it had been transfigured into a wicker basket with a bowl of water next to it. Hermione knelt to pick up a folded note written in a hand she didn't recognize reading _'welcome back, stray."_ Hermione's heart dropped and throat tightened at the realization the older girls were still happy to conspire with Lavender and Parvarti to torment her. That was why Pavarti-who was now fast asleep -was so awkward. She felt guilty. Why was she surprised? Of course something like this was going to happen! She'd done nothing but help them. She didn't understand, Hermione had given so much of herself over the past two years, what had _she _done to earn their ire? How much more did she have to do to earn, not their approval but, their tolerance? How much more did she have to do for Harry and Ron to listen to her? For her father to tell her the truth?

_No matter what you do, it will never be enough. _You _will never be enough!_

She felt pent up tears of frustration, anger, disappointment and hurt fall down her cheeks. _Shit! _She wiped her eyes and tried to steady breath before drawing her wand.


	31. B2:Ch15: Everything is Fine

"How about that one?" Severus pointed to a constellation.

"Erm," Hermione traced the stars with her own tiny finger and bit her lip in thought. "Libra!"

Hermione had memorized the Northern Hemisphere constellations on her star-chart back in the winter and she had been so excited for the first clear night after the students left for summer. The five-year-old girl hadn't failed to identify a single constellation or star he'd pointed to, and her eyes sparkled with each one she nervously identified.

She got excited over the smallest of things and he made a mental note to do this more often. He imagined it broke up the girl's monotonous life in their living quarters. He combed the sky for a more challenging constellation and a smirk broke across his face as he pointed at a particular cluster of stars, resting his other hand on Hermione's head. "And that one?"

Hermione puzzled biting her lips once more, squinting and tracing the stars, trying to connect the dots without much luck.

_Might as well_ _admit_-

"Erm...Lepis Major!" Hermione chirped.

"Lepis Major?" he asked, taken aback.

She turned to him with a little smirk of her own, closed her eyes and spoke in the most matter-of-fact voice she could muster. "It's Latin for 'big bunny'."

"Is it now?" he mused ruffling her hair. _I'm impressed._

"Yessir," she giggled. "But I know it's not a _real _constellation, is it?"

_So clever, that's my girl. _"Are you suggesting I'd _lie_ to you?" Severus gasped with feigned insult. "Oh, that hurts, love!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm right, aren't I?"

"I suppose you are," he pulled her into his lap and kissed her forehead before scrutinizing the star cluster. "Though I don't see a rabbit."

Hermione traced the stars for him to follow. "See it, Daddy?"

"I see," he said softly when another real constellation caught his eye. "There's Virgo, it's your birth sign." _  
_

"My birth sign," she said slowly before a cold edge formed in her voice. "But you aren't certain of that, are you, Daddy?"

"Hermione," he choked as his blood froze.

"And yes, I _am _suggesting you'd lie to me," she hissed, suddenly twelve again with fire in her eyes. "All you do is lie, isn't it? Spare me the 'father knows best' routine!_ You have no fucking clue what you're doing!_"

"Listen, Hermione I-"

"I _trusted _you!"

* * *

Severus awoke clutching his chest and gasping for air. He searched the dark room for forms in the shadows and instinctively reached for his wand. Not he thought his dream alerted him to any external threat, this was just a habit.

"Lumos," he whispered and crept out of bed before remembering there was no one to wake in the next room.

That dream-it had actually happened, with the exception of being called out by a furious out-of-time Hermione. It had always been something he looked back on fondly, though looking back now, it had been more bittersweet. The real night ended with her asking for details about her birth, which he'd promptly shut down stating that he'd tell her when she was older. A promise he had no intention of keeping. "I made up your birth date based on a vague statement from an unstable coworker, and I specifically chose a date that would be the hardest for others to fuss over" wasn't exactly oozing with paternal affection. Nor did "I have no bloody clue when or even where you were born. I didn't bother to ask your birth-parents because I had no intention of claiming you at the time." Though it had nothing on his lie about her mother... Yes, she was biracial she had more ambiguous features, so why the hell couldn't she just take for granted that he was her biological father? It wouldn't have been necessary then. _How long do you intend on telling yourself that? _

At least he had a chance to fix _one _mistake of his. Hermione started taking classes at fourth year that morning and he had her that day. All he had to do was not draw attention to her and not call out her friends. That would be easy enough...though unlike the previous year, everyone would already have a preconception of Hermione whether based on his behaviour, rumour or actually meeting her. It might not be precisely the do-over she deserved, but he could prove his classes could be palatable for her.

Any assurance he'd felt left him when he entered the Great Hall to tacky pink and red reminders that it was the fourteenth of February. No better way to convince one's daughter that he is safe to trust than teaching her and her classmates how to make a love-potion under duress. He took his seat next to an arrogantly beaming Lockhart clad in pink, quite satisfied with himself.

"Wonderful morning, isn't it, Severus?" Lockhart chortled.

"I suppose you think it is?" he sighed.

The others who had objected looked much more complacent than he had imagined, Flitwick was even smiling pointing out the different decorations floating around the hall. Severus forgot the man was a magpie. Though Flitwick's magpie tendencies had nothing on the chittering mass of students that entered the hall. Some gawked at the decorations, some giggled mischievously, but all seemed in rather high spirits or at least curious.

He scanned the crowd and found a mane of bushy brown hair between a skinny dark-haired boy and a tall ginger boy. He immediately honed in on Hermione, Potter and Weasley, the boys speaking out of the corner of their mouths and Hermione's eyes were circled with the familiar purple rings that told him she'd slept just about as well as he did.

Lovegood waved to Hermione from the Ravenclaw table, Hermione looked up to wave back and caught his gaze, and immediately looked away, the silent, solemn child suddenly found words to share with the boys, who now looked confused. She wanted to pretend she hadn't seen him and he felt a sudden pang.

_All you ever do is lie! I _trusted _you!_

It wouldn't be long now before the real Hermione said those words to him...

* * *

"Dwarves delivering Valentines?!" Hermione hissed after Lockhart's speech. "That's disgusting!"

The confusion on Harry and Ron's flushed faces replaced the repulsion from the little pink hearts flying everywhere. Harry was muggle-raised, no understanding of the plight of non-human magical creatures, and Ron just-didn't care. Hermione sorely missed Saiyaka at the moment. _She_ would care about the _humiliation _of Dwarves.

_"That's _what you find disgusting?" Ron scoffed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look, I find it all quite disgusting...spells and potions to strip one's will from them! And I can't believe the professors are all going along with it! It's like-no, actually I can!" she spat bitterly. "Grown-ups are hypocrites!"

"_Someone _woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Lavender sang before flushing pink. "Hi, Ron!"

"Erm, hi?" he said.

Three girls next to her began sniggering and Parvarti smiled awkwardly before staring at her plate ashamed.

"What was that about?" Harry whispered.

"It doesn't matter," she sighed putting her head on the table.

"She's right, you know!" Angelina Johnson's voice came from somewhere on her left, louder than any other voice at the table. "It is disgusting!"

Hermione lifted her head to see Angelina rise to her full height and cup her hands around her mouth with a fury in her dark brown eyes she hadn't seen since Malfoy called Colin a mudblood.

"Oi!" Angelina called at the top of her lungs. "Teaching love spells and potions is wrong! Anyone who agrees with me join me in the Entrance Hall at nine-o'clock for a sit-out!"

A tsunami of voices crashed over the Great Hall and Hermione couldn't make out most of them. She looked over her shoulder and saw Angelina, Katie and Alicia beaming proudly together as other fourth year Gryffindors gathered around them. She could see why George admired Angelina, Hermione hadn't the courage to do something like that. The students had a right to protest, it was outlined in the Code of Conduct, but Hermione was still only willing to hiss about it behind the teacher's backs. Though she had thought of re-joining the Herald with a _very carefully _written anonymous article dragging the idiot's idea through the dirt. This was better.

* * *

"Hermione! Luna!" Skylar waved from beside Angelina breaking whatever conversation they were in.

The turn out was greater than Hermione expected. The crowd were shoulder to shoulder and too many eyes stared ahead. Hermione _knew _they weren't looking at her, but she still felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and heart pound in her chest. She _wanted _to be part of this, to stand for what she thought was right, but the crowd...the in her lungs burned as she tried to remind herself that she'd faced worse. This was nothing.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Luna asked blinking at her.

"Erm, yeah," she choked. "I'm fine. Let's go."

They sat beside Skylar, cross-legged on the floor and Hermione scanned the crowd, surprised to see so many familiar faces. The whole Gryffindor quidditch team were in immediate sights of her, Neville, Seamus and Dean could be spotted in a far corner, Eloise Midgeon sat with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot and Padma Patil joined the Hufflepuffs. She scanned the hall for Harry and Ron.

"I can't believe we have an _excuse _to skive off classes!" Ron beamed behind them.

"Gah!" Hermione leapt and turned to see Harry and Ron taking in Angelina's successful spontaneous protest with as much amazement. "Th-this isn't just about taking off classes, Ron!" she found enough of her voice to hiss.

"Oh, come off it, Hermione!" Ron rolled his eyes.

"You're misappropriating it!" she hissed.

Angelina glared at Ron for a moment before rolling her own eyes. "Don't you think using love-potions and spells is wrong?" she turned to George on her other side. "Your brother does, doesn't he?"

"Erm," George coughed. "Of course."

Skylar sighed handing Luna a set of paint brushes. "Not everyone's going to be here for the cause," they summoned a long banner. "You get used to it, but the numbers make a point. You didn't honestly think that everyone feels as strongly as we do about it?"

"Merlin, Skylar," Angelina groaned. "I just don't want people think it's okay."

"And we convince the skivers by accepting them," Skylar shrugged. "Can you make us a banner, Luna?"

_How are you so damn calm? _Hermione thought.

"What about you, Harry?" Oliver Wood asked. "You're not just skiving, are you?"

"No," Harry said. "I agree, love potions and spells seem wrong."

Hermione helped Luna unfurl the long banner along the width of the hall when another tall red-haired form ran along the room.

"I'm late," O'Malley breathed. "Need help with that?"

Luna shrugged with a smile. "Hermione and I have it."

O'Malley nodded and found his way to the cluster of Gryffindors and Skylar, sitting opposite them and asking how he could help.

"What do you think it should read?" Luna asked turning her silver eyes up once the banner laid flat. "It should be catchy."

"Erm, I, erm, dunno...Hey, Angelina!" Hermione called. "What should it read?!"

Angelina twirled a thin black braid in her finders pensively before calling back. "It was spontaneous! We didn't really get to prepare, but I reckon it should be catchy!"

"Skylar?" her voice cracked. "The banner was your idea!"

"Erm," Skylar shrugged. "Angelina was so fired up...I kinda just thought she had one!"

"Seriously?" Lee Jordan rolled his eyes. "_Control isn't Love!"_

Once Angelina and Skylar got together volunteers (Hermione, Luna, Dean and two older Hufflepuffs) to make the banner with Lee's statement, they sat out from nine-o'clock to half-past four. For a spontaneous protest, the lot of them were well organized. Filch had been sent out to watch the protesters, and Fred and George refrained from messing with him as to not undermine the cause. They broke out into chants whenever they saw a teacher pass through the Entrance Hall, which were met with indifference. Hermione read so much about protests, she kept waiting for someone to do something stupid, but to her amazement nothing happened. It all went according to...well as much of a plan as there could have been in the short amount of time Angelina had. Hermione, Luna and O'Malley agreed to write on Angelina's sit-out (though they were far from unbiased!), and set to interviewing her, Skylar and any other volunteers.

"I wonder," Luna said after the crowd dispersed, staring at the banner. "If Colin might have liked to take pictures of such a big event."

Hermione clasped her hands together and bit her lip. She didn't know, but she wish she did talk to Harry and Ron about the diary the previous night-it wouldn't have brought Colin back, but it could have stopped other muggle-borns from getting hurt.

* * *

"There it is!" Ron pointed to a particular silver plaque behind the glass in the centre of the case. "'_For special services to the school: T.M Riddle.'"_

Hermione leaned in to examine the plaque, her nose centimetres from the glass as she read the plaque. _1943\. _"That's the year the chamber was last opened!"

"Do you think he could have had anything to do with it?" Harry asked.

"I doubt it," Ron grumbled mouth twisted with indignation. "Riddle has more than that trophy. He was a prefect, head-boy and even top of his year. No way little mister perfect had a hand in it."

Ron's blue eyes narrowed in disgust at the plaque as if it had caused some personal harm to him. Hermione shifted uncomfortably at the scorn in his voice at 'top of his year'. He didn't understand that the striving for academic achievements was just an attempt to be good enough at something...nor did he know that no matter how many good grades or trophies Riddle got, he never would have filled the hole.

_Now who's making assumptions? _

"I'll have to hit the archives. Do either of you two want to come with me?" Hermione asked. "We might be able to figure out what the 'special service' was."

"Sure," Harry said jumping at the chance to figure it out. "I got-"

"Oi!" a gruff voice called out. "'Arry Potter!"

The voice belonged to a stout, bald Dwarf with a bulbous, ruddy nose, and ringed black eyes, carrying a basket and wearing nothing but baggy white pants fashioned to look like a diaper. Hermione's stomach churned and thought chronic stress had done more than turn his beard white and cause his hair to fall away.

"We're not partaking!" Harry called. "We were part of the protest!"

"I was part of a protest once too, laddie," the dwarf hiccoughed. "Think my friends and I would be doing this if it worked? Take yer card!"

"Okay! Okay!" Harry shrank away from him but took the card.

Hermione hadn't read much about Dwarves, but the pictures in the books and scant paragraphs she had encountered had failed to mention the degradation they faced in modern day. The pot-bellied, old dwarf also seemed a far cry from the proud bearded makers depicted in every book. Hermione thought back to the unquestioned hierarchy of magical beings and wished hundreds of years ago people like her and Saiyaka had bothered to listen to their plights, rather than now when she had no clue what could be done.

"Was it a labour strike?" she asked.

"If yer curious about failed movements read a book!" he snarled. "Dwarves don't owe you shit!"

Hermione opened her mouth to argue but she thought about every time she had ever been upset about people asking her about her origins. True, she didn't know, and it might be different if she did. But as it stood, she felt the questions invasive. And that wasn't tied to a longer history. As much as she wanted to cry that she just wanted to help, or feel hurt, he was right. She didn't know his name, why would he tell her about hurt in his past? _You presumptuous, stupid piece of shit!_

"You can't talk to her like that!" Ron snapped.

"It's fine," Hermione said trying to tame the hurt in her voice.

"But he-"

"It's _fine_," she turned to the Dwarf and nodded her head. "I'm sorry."

"Did you just _bow _in apology to a _dwarf?" _a clear voice drawled. "Maybe Professor Snape did find you. Must have been damaged."

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron spat.

"Make him, Weasley," Pansy giggled, skipping up to Hermione. "Even if you were dumped by some witch with a craving for dumplings because you were damaged," she took her arm. "You're still our favourite little stray."

"What the _hell _are you on about?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You said you'd help me with Transfiguration before break."

"Aww, sweetie," Hermione cooed. "I'm not in second-year classes anymore so I can't help you. But you don't _need _the help of a little stray, do you?"

"Bitch!" she seethed tightening her grip.

"What's that you got, Potter?" Malfoy smirked taking T.M Riddle's diary . "What deep secrets have you been-"

"_Expelliarmus!" _Harry cried causing the book to fly out of Malfoy's hands.

Harry snatched the book back and dropped the pink envelope in favour of Riddle's diary.

"Do we have a love letter, Potter?" Malfoy sneered picking up the envelope.

"Hey!" a voice called from across the corridor.

All five of them turned their attention to an immaculate Percy marching toward them tailed by a petite red-headed girl, Ginny, looking much more apprehensive than Percy.

"No magic in the corridors, Harry!" Percy snarled. "Did you not get in enough trouble?"

"But Malfoy took Harry's things!" Ron said pointing to Malfoy.

Percy turned to glared at Malfoy, leaning over him with his full-height. "Give it back to him, Malfoy."

Malfoy gave an evil smirk and raised his pale eyebrows. "And I will, once I've read it!"

"P-please don't," Ginny choked, her brown eyes huge.

Malfoy let out a cold laugh the churned Hermione's stomach. "And now we know who your admirer is!"

"Haven't you got better shit to do then torment a first year?" Hermione spat. "Though I suppose it's always been hard for you to pick on someone on your own level."

"Like you?" Malfoy scoffed. "You're nothing without _Daddy _behind you, are you?"

"It seems we have that in common," she hissed.

"_I _have a mother," he sneered.

Hermione once again had no retort. She _hated _how easy she was to play. Playing the mother card hurt now more than ever, not only did she have no idea who her mother was, but she was _lied _to about her by the one person who had the answers. She didn't want to admit it, but staring at Malfoy, thinking of the rumours, she wondered if her father lied because the truth was so bad he thought he had to. There was no reason for her to think that, but it gnawed at the back of her mind.

"Now let's see what Weasley has to say about-'_eyes as green as pickled toad'_! Pansy, look at this!" Malfoy sneered.

Pansy let go of Hermione's arm to read the card with him, both cackling.

Hermione turned to Ginny seeing tears well in her eyes, her face drained as she stared at Harry, who turned his eyes to the diary he clutched. Ginny's lower lip trembled and she tore from the trophy hall at a speed Hermione herself wasn't capable without the assistance of cat-like features.

* * *

"I can't go with you to the library, Hermione," Harry said once they reached the common room. "If I hear one more Slytherin chanting 'eyes as bright as pickled toad', I think I'll go mad."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that Ginny had it much, much worse than he did. Whenever she resurfaced from her dormitory, she would be hounded mercilessly for her little crush on the famous Harry Potter. She already had no friends that Hermione could tell, and this would make it so much worse. Though, Harry was a decent person, he did often forget that others could have it worse than him. Not that he didn't have it bad, everything he's told them about the Dursleys sounded awful, and Hermione wasn't about to forget that he had so much taken away at a young age, that he survived not one, but two attempted murders, and then there was the altercation with Quirrell, he didn't talk about it...but at the moment, Ginny's pain was greater, even if Harry's overall situation was worse.

_How could he have gone through so much and be so...okay? I've not been through half of what he did and I...I'm just one misstep from a panic attack most days. It's not fair! _Hermione moved a lock of hair from her face. _Life's not fair. __You're not doing anyone good thinking of it now..._

"We're twelve," Ron reminded her. "Can't you just go on your own?"

"Monster stalking the school, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Even if I wasn't looking to placate my prat of a father-"

"What made you finally see the light?" Ron scoffed.

"Forget it," Hermione sighed. "I'm dropping off my bag and leaving. Join me or hide in the common room."

Hermione took the stairs to the dormitory and passed the door to the first-years' room. She wondered if Ginny would be up to speaking with her or if she needed more time alone. She never knew what to do in these situations. She took in a deep breath and knocked on the door.

The door creaked open and she saw Ginny's tear-filled eyes peak through the door. "H-Hermione?"

"Hi," she said wringing her hands. "I'm sorry if I'm bothering you-but-erm-I-erm-I kind of just wanted to make sure you were okay. Erm, are you?"

_Smooth, you have no clue how to comfort people, do you? _

Ginny stared at her for a moment before her brown eyes scanned the staircase. She bit her lip before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"If you're sure..." she bit her own lip.

"I am!" Ginny snapped before slamming the door in her face.

Hermione blinked bewildered for a moment. Months ago Ginny had _wanted _to talk to her. Though, she wasn't completely sure she did. Maybe when they last spoke Hermione was overly insistent, and she couldn't be surprised that Ginny needed time alone to process having her crush professed to everyone. If either of Hermione's little crushes saw the light of day in Mahoukatoro, she would do everything she could to disappear until August. And thinking it was anything else was just plain stupid.

Hermione went up to the second-year girls' room to collect to drop off her bag. She looked around the circular room, grateful for the lack of other human beings. She flung herself onto the bed with a heaving sigh and closed her eyes. She let herself sink into the scarlet and gold comforter and let her muscles unwind, let herself breathe. She felt so lost, so inadequate, the time to just breathe, just one moment...she was so tired..._No! There's so much you have to do! _Hermione moved to leave the bed and fell back down. _What's one minute? _

* * *

The previous year Severus had thought Hermione looked so out of place in his classroom. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had been looking at a four-year-old rather than an eleven-year-old. Seeing his now twelve-year-old daughter in a class full of fourteen and fifteen-year-olds made the effect much, much worse. Hermione was dwarfed by her peers, and her attempts to shrink to nothing did not help matters.

The Weasley twins with Jordanspoke in low tones, Hermione sat beside one of them in the back, not listening to whatever mischeif in favour scanning the room. He recognized the expression on her face, she was measuring up everyone in the classroom, paying particular attention to the nine Slytherins she had yet to meet and two Gryffindor girls giggling in the row before her. She chewed her lip pensively and he imagined she constructed and deconstructed scenarios where she might have to speak to any of them, and her clasped hands telegraphed her fear that something was about to go horribly wrong.

_Why did I let Dumbledore talk me into this? __Don't fuck this up..._

"Settle down," he said, silencing the few who still spoke. "Now that we have been given the privilege of adhering to our schedule," he said combing the classroom. "We'll continue on our antidote work. Can anyone tell me what the universal antidote is?"

Not a single hand raised, despite being something everyone should have known at this point in the curriculum. How so few students offered information in his classes still irked him. The students fell into three categories, one, they knew and didn't care, two, they didn't know because they were lazy and the lack of hands justified their laissez-faire attitude toward their schooling, or three, they, like Hermione, were too nervous to draw attention to themselves. Some classes had one or two who relished in showing off and would raise their hand at every question while reciting passages from the book almost verbatim, but, to his relief, there were none in this class.

"Anyone?" he asked again.

The lot of them looked around, waiting for someone to raise their hands. He picked out one of the girls Hermione had been nervously sizing up earlier. He'd made a point of calling on both of them since he had figured out they were among the eight responsible for the cat-incident, and though it was perhaps petty, he wanted to do something. Luckily they had given him plenty of excuses to deduct points and assign detentions.

"Miss Vane?" he called.

The girl stopped playing with her black hair and sat at attention, her pale eyes staring past him rather than at him. "Y-yessir?"

"Universal poison and venom antidote, Miss Vane," he folded his arms. "This should just be review for you. Care to remind everyone here the answer to this first year question?"

Vane swallowed and turned to the red haired girl, McDonald, next to her who shrugged. Other Gryffindors looked apprehensive while the bulk of the Slytherins sniggered, despite their equal inability to recall something so fundamental.

"If you're capable of absorbing any information at all I suggest you pay attention, you stupid girl."

Hermione shrank further, staring at the two girls before casting her gaze downward.

_Don't call out her friends, don't call out her bullies, can't win, can I?_

"A bezoar," he said. "It's found in the stomach of a goat and can neutralize almost any poison or venom. Write this down, it's fundamental and should be ingrained in your little brains by now. I don't suppose there's anyone here who can tell me what venom a bezoar _cannot _neutralize? Anyone?"

Once again they all traded confused looks. His eyes went to the back of the room and found one of the Weasley twins looking downward at Hermione's hand-perhaps she was bleeding again. Hermione kept her gaze on her notes, but he thought he saw Weasley's mouth move. _You two have to make every class terrible, even when you aren't trying._

"Mr. Weasley seems to have something to say on the subject, care to enlighten us?"

The boy snapped to attention, acutely aware of the eyes that turned to him. He settled adopting a forced laissez-faire attitude and spoke. "Basilisk venom."

"Surprisingly, Mr. Weasley is correct. You wouldn't happen to know what can neutralize basilisk venom, do you?"

Both twins exchanged a look before turning their heads to a very detached Hermione. He rolled his eyes, the girl was in the hospital for the better part of four months and thrust into a program two years above her age level, and _she _was the one that knew the answer? She looked so lost, he'd just expected that she would be behind rather than ahead. Though, her knowing the answer to that question didn't make him feel any less like he'd just thrown his baby to the wolves.

"Anyone else?" he said trying not to linger on the thought.

To his surprise two hands nervously snaked into the air. The owners of the hands were also suspect, one belonged to O'Malley who never volunteered information without being called upon, and Johnson, who performed well enough, but like the rest of the damn quidditch team couldn't be bothered participating in class unless she absolutely had to. Neither of them had time to exchange notes, which meant they came upon the answer themselves.

"Miss Johnson?" he asked.

"Phoenix tears, sir," she said.

"Correct," he nodded. "Now for the practical portion. Grab your in-progress antidotes. Everything will be-" _Shit..._ "in the cupboard. As always, instructions are on the board."

For the rest of the class he watched Hermione scramble to keep up with her older peers, her eyes so often drifting to the more well-done potions before casting a judging look at her own antidote. This was a precise process and she couldn't use her little tricks to speed along the maturation, despite her obvious discomfort at being behind her peers, forgetting about their obvious head start.

He thought that it spoke to more aspects of her life than her classes. Hermione wasn't the type to accept having different expectations than those around her. The frail little girl refused to acknowledge any of her physical limitations, then in an attempt to over compensate she did everything she could to excel academically causing her physical condition to worsen and her mental condition-oh, he was certain she had some kind of mental disorder as well- unravel.

His thoughts were interrupted when a plume of smoke rose from the back of the room to an eruption of coughing. Luckily, it was contained to the culprit's cauldron, one of the Weasley twins cackled between coughs while the other joined him, accompanied by Jordan and Johnson. His eyes drifted to Hermione in the corner coughing and wheezing into the wall rather, ignoring the incompetent soot covered boy beside her.

Students all turned in their seats to see the display. Many laughing. He thought of the undersized, wheezing blue baby he brought to Saint Mungo's all those years ago. She could hardly be the only child their with lung problems, yet the lot of them found the idea of smoke inhalation simply hilarious.

Severus walked up to the back row and the laughter died. Hermione continued coughing, clutching her chest while O'Malley turned in his seat to look on her. He also seemed unaware of Severus's presence.

"You alright, sunshine?" O'Malley whispered.

"Fine," she coughed. "I'm fine."

"I doubt it," he said disappearing the smoke.

The two of them straightened, or in Hermione's case attempted to. Her eyes were bloodshot and watery, it seemed the smoke drifted in her direction before Weasley contained it. She stopped clutching her chest and tried not to look pained, but she couldn't stop wheezing. Her voice was an unsettling mixture of scratchy and squeaky.

"Shit," Jordan said looking at her face.

"Fine," she managed.

"Come with me," he sighed, helping her up. "Weasley, O'Malley, _stay here. _The rest of you idiots are excused."

* * *

"So I can leave now?" Hermione said not wanting to be in the hospital for another second that year.

Pomfrey pursed her lips and shrugged. "Yes, I suppose you'll be away from smoke for sometime. I thought your father gave you powdered Mauna Loa? Or I assumed, you haven't asked me for a refill."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush and she stared at her feet. I-erm-I-" she took a deep breath, no longer finding pleasure and relief in the air filling her lungs. "Erm, I haven't had an episode since I was nine, so I just didn't bother getting any when I enrolled."

"Merlin, girl," Pomfrey rolled her eyes passing her a small vial with white and green powder. "Keep this up and your father will be right about how sick you are."

"Thank you," Hermione rolled her own eyes.

Hermione's father chronically underestimated her, and Hermione read about chronic respiratory conditions. She just barely qualified-her immune system reacted a little too harshly to the smoke, she got out of breath quicker than her peers, but she wasn't constantly doubled over or gasping for air. Her body-at least pre-transfiguration- was almost normal. Honestly, she hated her nerves more than her lungs and stomach, which really only acted up when she was nervous. Same for her inability to get warm, her fatigue...her brain was already irreparably broken, she wanted to _pretend _her body wasn't. Though recently-hell her whole life- she felt like both were a prison.

_How the hell is your mind a prison if you _are _your mind? Stupid piece of shit. _

Hermione listened to Pomfrey lecture her about taking care of herself, echoing the many, many lectures she'd heard from her father over the years. To the point that she wondered if the two compared notes. She was free to go and headed for herbology wondering if it would go any better.

"I am so sorry, Hermione," Fred whispered as they queued in front of the green house.

"I told you, I'm fine," she forced a smile. "My father wasn't _too _harsh was he?"

Fred gave a sardonic laugh. "Had to clean up the classroom while he yelled."

"Failed the assignment," George added. "But we reckon he would have anyway, what with the fire."

"Oh, and I have detention," he said.

"A whole week of it," George nodded.

"And cost us twenty points."

"And wrote home."

"Completely reasonable," Fred finished. "For Snape."

"Damn it," Hermione buried her face in her hands. "I am _so _sorry!"

Fred swallowed. "I thought I was sorry. Besides it's a pittance compared to what Ivy and Violet got last month. Are you sure you're fine?"

Hermione lifted her face from her hands and sighed. She did_ not _want to think about Ivy and Violet's punishments, nor their inevitable retaliation. "I keep telling you _I'm fine. _Why does no one believe me when I say it? He over reacted, the man made me write him _daily _when I went to Japan." _Shit, the journal!  
_

Fred and George looked at each other before shrugging and changing the subject. It didn't last. Once they set about harvesting bubolar pus Hermione was hounded with sincere and ironic questions after her welfare. Violet Vane and Ivy MacDonald pretended to choke at different points to the laughter of three other girls Hermione didn't know the names of. She slowly shifted her way down to Skylar, who she spied working alone in a far corner, they were given a wide breadth for some reason. Here she saw two opportunities, get away from everyone and to give the rather lonely Skylar company.

_Unless they don't want company. They might like being alone-and even if they did want company, why would they want you? Gah! Fuck you, brain, they tolerate me._

"Hermione?" Skylar's black eyebrows knit in confusion above their amber eyes. "I thought you were in second year?"

"Got pushed up to fourth year," she sighed kneeling by the bulboubar plant. "Care if I work here? I just need to-"

Skylar knelt beside her moving their black braid off their shoulder. "Believe me, I _get _it," they sighed.

The two examined the wilting plant and Hermione grimaced thinking about the wield. "I don't think you got a healthy one."

"But that doesn't mean it's a lost cause, does it?" they smiled wistfully at the plant.

* * *

"Harry, Ron!" Hermione sat next to them at a table. "I think I've fig-"

"So you _are _talking to us?" Ron glared at her.

The common room was nearly empty, Hermione was worried that by the time she finally got back to the common room that they would have gone to bed. She'd been hiding out in the secret passage in the library where she'd once practiced spells. She _should _have prioritized talking to Harry and Ron, but she couldn't take the mixture of pity and disdain right now. She was-well, afraid she'd cry if she dealt with anymore.

"I'm sorry?" she shrank beneath his gaze.

"You told us you'd be back last night and you just disappeared till now!" Ron snapped.

"Oh, erm," she clasped her hands together. "I fell asleep. I didn't wake up until minutes before I had to be in class. Sorry."

"Oh," Ron flushed pink and averted his gaze. "Sorry."

Harry tapped the journal looking at her with a drawn face before running a hand through his untidy black hair. "We have some bad news-but if you figured something out, why don't you go first?"

Hermione lowered her voice and leaned in before scanning the room to ensure it was empty. "Have you tried writing in it? There are enchantments that-"

"Actually, I did last night," Harry said. "And it _wrote back to me_."

Hermione swallowed. That was her theory, but a chill ran down her spine as she thought about the person on the other end of the enchantment. She dug her fingernails into her hands and searched Harry's green eyes. They shared a silent dread and Hermione waited with baited breath for more details.

"He-Tom-told me about the last time the chamber opened Hermione," he said slowly. "he was a student here and...it was Hagrid. The creature was a pet of Hagrid's."

Hermione eyed the journal with suspicion. It just occurred to her she had no clue what Hagrid had been expelled for, but Dumbledore would never have kept him around if he had done it. "Harry, are you absolutely certain you can trust this Tom character? He might be trying to fra-"

"He's not some bloke on the other end of an enchantment, Hermione," Harry gestured to the journal. "He _is _the diary. Said he put part of his consciousness into it."

"That just makes me more suspicious, Harry!" she snapped. "Ron, tell him! You're dad-"

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "I don't trust it either, but it's the only lead we _have, _Hermione. We've been working on this since November and all we have are pipes and a basilisk? And we don't know about the reflection theory for sure, mind."

Hermione bit her lip and picked at her hands. "Look, I know Hagrid likes his dangerous pets. But not even _he _would be inclined to keep a fucking _basilisk_."

"But that's just it," Harry argued. "We don't know it's a basilisk! I _saw _the monster. It scurried pretty quickly, but I reckon it was like a giant tarantula. At least the size of a cat!"

Ron shuddered at the thought and Hermione couldn't blame him this time. Agromantula's were terrifying. But she could think of someone else who would react with more than a shudder at the thought of a full-grown agromantula.

"Hagrid's agromantula isn't the beast!" Hermione hissed. "Salazar Slytherin was an arachnaphobe! Am I the only one who remembers a sentence from those books on Slytherin?"

This fell on deaf ears, she knew from the exasperated expressions exchanged. Harry then rolled his eyes and leaned in as if he were speaking to a frightened child. "Listen, Hermione."

"I'm listening," she sighed digging her nails further into her flesh.

"I like Hagrid too. But we know he has the worst taste in pets. Tom seemed to think it was responsible for Myrtle's death."

"And what are _Tom's _motives?" Hermione asked. "Maybe-"

"No, listen, Hermione," Harry continued. "We have to see if it's true. We should see if we can figure out. You can confirm the dates by the archives, maybe seeing it yourself might help."

"And if it's a coincidence?" Hermione asked. "Maybe we should _ask _Hagrid?"

"That'll be lovely to discuss over tea!" Ron scoffed. "How do you fancy it'll go? 'keeping any great beasts lying around, Hagrid?' And what happened to all that 'grown-ups are all evil' kick you've been on? You're bloody mental."

"Oh, Hagrid doesn't count!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll check the archives before classes. Just be careful what you tell 'Tom'."

"Pfft!" Ron rolled his eyes. "He sounds like Percy, he's a prat not sinister."

* * *

Hermione slipped into the archives as soon as the library opened at seven a.m greeting Pince with a smile and a claim that she was nervous she'd fall behind.

"You're really going all-out on your history projects this year," Pince observed over her glasses as she unlocked the door to the archives.

"You know how obsessive I can be," Hermione forced a laugh and shrugged.

"That I do," she sighed. "You know the rules."

"One page out of place and you'll crucify me," Hermione sang.

"Good girl," Pince nodded.

Hermione lit her wand and descended the stairs. Pince hadn't lit the lamps yet. She followed the spiral staircase to the rows of shelves and filing cabinets along the walls. She wanted disciplinary records. She ducked into the far corner and began looking through the 1942-43 files trying to find Hagrid's expulsion. She combed through the year to no avail.

_Where the hell is it?!_

"Shit!" Hermione hissed.

"Language," a voice behind her tutted.

* * *

"Gah!" she squeaked, and jumped, spinning to face her Severus and sending papers flying around them. "Sorry!"

She knelt and started collected the flung papers from the ground.

He stood with his arms folded of his chest with a file-folder in his hand and tried to keep his voice down. "You, young lady, are to explain what has brought you to peruse disciplinary files before eight o'clock."

What the hell was she doing there and _alone_? Did she not listen to a single word he said? He went to grab the file that should have never been public record in the first place on Dumbledore's behalf. He did _not _expect her to be milling about at such an early hour and he very much doubted this had nothing to do with the chamber.

"1942 October, Weymouth Fern," she muttered picking up a file, placing it in the proper place. "I, erm, I, y-you see-" Hermione fumbled with ordering the stack of papers in her hands and began reviewing their order. "nineteen-"

_Avoiding the question, classic Hermione_, He rolled his eyes and drew his wand, the papers flew from her hands and reordered themselves before landing neatly into the file which he snatched from the air before tucking his wand back in his robes. He glared at her a moment before skimming through the files. 1942-43.

"Why the hell am I not surprised?"

Hermione, still on her knees, clasped her hands together and stared at the ground. He wondered what she was thinking at that moment. He'd expected her to get to her feet, to speak. Instead she looked rather like she was praying, or at least withdrawing to her thoughts. Hermione occupied the real world only slightly more than her new little friend Lovegood.

"Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape," he said. "Just what the hell do you think you are _doing_?"

"I, erm," she squeaked. "I-shi-gah! I, erm-"

"_Out with it!_" he spat.

Hermione bit her lip before steadying her breath and digging her nails in to the backs of her hands. "I-heard-a-rumour-Hagrid-released-the-creature-last-time-and-that's-why-he-was-expelled!" she said at top speed.

"He wouldn't still be here if that was the case, surely you know that?" he asked coolly. "From whom did you hear these rumours?"

"Older girls in the toilet," Hermione sighed. "I heard it in passing. I just needed proof he didn't-"

"You little idiot!" he knelt beside her and opened the lone file in his hands pointing at individual words as he read over her shoulder. "_21 March 1943. Name of Student: Hagrid, Rubeus, Age: 14. Punishment: Expulsion, Disciplinary Overseers: Professor Armando Dippet (Headmaster), Professor Albus Dumbledore, Gryffindor Head. Infraction Report: Hagrid kept nursed a sick agromantula back to health in a cupboard in the dungeons. There are no witnessed attacks, but Slytherin prefect Tom Riddle_-" He tripped over the name "-_saw it flee the school grounds when he confronted Hagrid. There is a suspected connection between the creature and the petrified students as well as the death of Myrtle Warren-"  
_

"But agromantulas can't petrify," Hermione muttered in a quiet voice as she read ahead.

_Amendment : The attacks have stopped after the expulsion of Rubeus Hagrid and the fleeing of his creature. We believe that the issue of the Chamber of Secrets has been resolved_

_-A. Dippet._

"They didn't interview Myrtle to be sure before expelling him?" she whispered.

"I assume you've gotten to the end then," he jabbed his finger at it. "There. Notice the assertion that the issue is resolved. If you were naively hoping to exonerate the man, you'll find no proof in old files._ Tell me_ you weren't hoping to _show _this to anyone with the assertion agromantula venom doesn't petrify?"

Hermione continued to scan the document, perhaps, like him, looking for some detail to point to the true culprit. Severus wondered if his daughter thought he was framed as well. Though he didn't believe she'd heard it in a toilet, unless Moaning Myrtle suddenly became cooperative. He recognized the desperation in her eyes as she tried to dig up information that just wasn't there.

"I'm showing you this," he said attempting to soften his voice. "Because there is nothing you can possibly dig up. The headmaster and I knew about the incident, all the professors do. I, too, wanted something to throw against any who'd accuse him. But it won't work."

"But-"

"Will it kill you to listen to me once?" he snapped. "Stay out of this."

"But, sir-"

"Silence!" he hissed.

Hermione averted her gaze, her hair concealing her like a bushy blanket, and took her hand back before wringing them together. She shifted on her feet uncomfortably, perhaps thinking about Hagrid's fate or how she was going to fix the situation. Why couldn't she just do as she was told? Once again he found himself wondering how her own safety meant so little to her.

"Listen to me," he placed the file back in the appropriate cabinet. "I know you have a personal stake in this, but there is absolutely nothing you can do. You could very well make thing worse. Indeed, it could _much _worse.

For yourself _and _others. The best thing you can do is stay out of the way."

Hermione stood still and silent as the grave, her hands stopped wringing in favour of clasping them together again. He moved her hair from her face and her expression was one of deep contemplation. She bit her lip and her eyes remained fixed at a point on her hand. He wondered what her dilemma was for a moment before lifting her face by the chin. Hermione blinked in confusion before adapting a more challenging expression.

_I didn't want to do_ this...Severus searched her eyes, gleaning surface thoughts from her confused mind. There was an image of the Weasley girl clutching a diary in tears under a cherry tree, the next image was of her Potter and Weasley discussing something in low voices which he held for a second before a Polar bear crying out into the void as it drifted away on a thin glacier until it fell in. He pushed past the bear to find a book passage, but before he could linger long enough to read it, the image changed again, to the half-cat Hermione hissing at a letter-he knew which that was-then he saw Weasley and Potter escorting her covered in black fur down a dark corridor an stamping her foot as she cried out in frustration. The last image were the two of them in his office, she stared at up at him, her doe-like brown eyes filled with angry tears and she backed away from him repulsed.

_"I _trusted_ you!" _her voice echoed in his mind. Was he surprised she still thought about it? He wasn't even sure which one of them had been thinking about her finding out he'd altered her memory. "I _trusted _you!" Those words haunted him.

Hermione looked up at him once again with furious tears in her eyes as she backed away. "_Tell me _you didn't just-" she broke off and choked.

Only seconds passed, but he feared he might have tipped his hand trying to linger on certain images, and pushing past the white bear, he'd never done that before because he didn't want her to know what he was doing. What was worse was that he'd found nothing of use, he'd betrayed her trust again, but this time it was for nothing. All he got was an image from a dream, a conversation he couldn't interpret and a book he couldn't read. That and reminder of his betrayals. Could he deny it?

"Tell you I didn't just do what, love?" he asked softly. _Coward! _

Hermione looked around the room before clasping her hands once more and biting her lip. She took a shaky breath before looking at him. "D-did you just-" she stared at him a moment and he saw her conviction give way to doubt."Forget it," she sighed and buried her face in her hands. "I'm just- Ugh!" I don't know!"

"You _have _been through quite a bit recently, haven't you, love?" he placed his hand on her head.

_All you ever do is lie! _Hermione's voice rang through his head.

"Do you need a Calming Solution?" he asked. _You have no fucking clue what you're doing!_

"I'm fine," she said in a quiet voice.


	32. B2:Ch16: Sooner than Expected

"And Professor Dipshit couldn't even be bothered with a real investigation!" Hermione spat as she paced the length of the empty third floor corridor.

"Professor Dipshit?" Ron snorted. "Shall we give her points for creativity?"

Harry groaned at this, perhaps noting Hermione's clearly agitated state. She did not like the way he was looking at her.

"My point," Hermione steadied breath and tried to keep her voice even-though she imagined the permanent squeak given to her would make the cracks less easy to pick out. "Is that Hagrid nursed a creature back to health that shouldn't have the ability to petrify. But he's a half-giant, so if he coincidentally had any creature in his care during the time, the powers that be would never have lifted a finger to help him!"

Harry knit his eyebrows in confusion and his mouth hung slightly open. "Hagrid's a h-half-_giant_? Giants exist?"

Hermione stopped her pacing to find both Harry and Ron staring at her aghast by the revelation.

"I suppose that makes sense," Ron mused. "I guess I just thought he was a big bloke."

"But if he's a half-giant that means-" Harry trailed off. "Do wizards and giants marry?"

"Why would anyone _want _to?" Ron grimaced. "Giants are stupid, violent and-"

"Thank you for demonstrating the masses' out-dated opinions on giants, Ron," Hermione said coolly. "I'm sure Harry found the attack on half of Hagrid's heritage very informative."

"I wasn't saying _Hagrid _was," Ron groaned. "Just full giants."

"Ho ho!" she hissed. "I wasn't expecting to speak to an expert on 'full-giants', any other finer points in your ethnography you'd like to give, _Professor?"_

"You know what, Hermione?" Ron narrowed his eyes and spoke through gritted teeth. "You sound _just _like your father!"

Hermione bit her lip and stared at Ron feeling his hate for both her and her father wash over her. Her stomach churned under his gaze, at that moment she thought she'd disgusted him. Her throat tightened and she dug her nails into her hand trying to get a sense for the world around her. Was she _really _like her father? This wasn't the first time someone accused her of sounding like him. But Severus Snape was bitter, and cruel, and vindictive and-what if she _was_ like him? Was she as-no! She couldn't-was it bad she thought so little of the man who raised her? _But I'm pretty sure he used Legillimency on me...I thought he wanted to regain my trust..._

"Erm," Harry said. "Hermione? Are you still with us?"

_Hagrid and the fucking chamber, you stupid piece of shit! _"Right," she said wiping her eyes beneath her hair. "Sorry! So, erm, I think we need to figure out _how _the Slytherin prefect knew about Hargid's creature. If little mister perfect, as Ron calls him, was tipped off, we know who framed Hagrid. I know if I were controlling a monster to attack students, I'd try to frame the student keeping a monster for a pet. Even better if their chances of getting an actual investigation are non-existent."

"So," Harry mused. "If we asked him who tipped him off, we can use their last name to suss out who opened it this time!"

"Assuming he's telling the truth," Hermione nodded. "Yes."

"Great!" Ron leapt up. "Let's go ask the diary now!"

Hermione looked at her watch before ringing her hands. "I can't," she sighed. "If I skive anymore classes and it'll be obvious I'm up to something. In fact, if you two skive right now _someone _is going to wonder what you're up to."

"But this is important!" Ron groaned. "I'm sure we can-"

"Give the teachers a fucking reason to question our whereabouts? Sure, why the hell not?!" Hermione hissed.

"Can I finish a bloody sentence without you sneering at me?" Ron yelled.

"Can _you _finish a sentence?" Hermione cried. "Are you fu-"

"Both of you drop it!" Harry seethed. "Does everything have to be a row? We have more important things to worry about right now. And I happen to agree with Hermione."

"Oh, fine," Ron groaned. "But you have really got to work on your rage issues, Hermione."

Work on rage issues? _Her?_ Ron was the one always a percieved insult away from a tantrum and Hermione spent years of her life keeping quiet and doing everything she was supposed to. How fucking _dare _he? Hermione didn't have rage issues, she barely even got angry-_that's not true though, is it? And I did kind of blow up at him, but...maybe I am like my father..._

* * *

"Hi, Hermione!" Luna skipped up to her and hugged her.

Bewildered, Hermione hugged her back. "Hi, Luna," she said softly.

Luna separated beaming at her, a refreshing gleam in her silver eyes. Hermione didn't know how she could be so _happy _but like she let the mood wash over her. _Someone _was glad to see her.

"Are you okay?" Luna blinked and her smile faded.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Hermione forced a laugh and shrugged. "How about you?"

"Oh, I'm alright," her vague smile returned. "Lockhart's a bit of a joke though, isn't he?"

"Mm-hmm," Hermione nodded. "Not looking forward to his class. Is he still on about the protest being a conspiracy against him?"

Luna gave a hardy laugh at this before smirking and poking her in the forehead. "Of course he is, the git. But seriously, are you okay?"

"Luna," Hermione sighed. "I said I was fine."

"Okay," she sighed herself, not looking quite convinced. "Hey, did you want to meet after classes?"

"Erm," Hermione clasped her hands together and bit her lip.

Luna smiled once more at the idea, sunlight dancing across her silver eyes and dirty-blond hair from the window. She looked so _excited _at the idea of meeting with her. Hermione didn't understand why she was so hopeful. She hated to say no to Luna, to disappoint her, but she had to help Harry and Ron. Even if she didn't, how long before Hermione screwed things up with her? Luna never asked for anything but her time...Hermione didn't deserve a friend like that. If she was like her father, she would just hurt Luna.

"S-sorry, Luna," Hermione sighed. "I promised Harry and Ron I would help them with their homework. Sorry."

"You already apologized, silly," Luna laughed. "Anyway, I should get to Charms. Just tune out like the first half-hour of Lockhart's lecture."

"Will do," Hermione said.

Luna walked away without the signature skip in her step and Hermione told herself questioning the journal and Hagrid was for the better. It was stupid to feel guilty for wanting to help people. She told herself it was even stupider to wish she was spending her time with Luna instead.

* * *

The mandrakes were _finally _ready for Severus to use in the reverse-petrification potion. He carefully stripped and cut the gnarled limb-like roots into vertical sections and collected the fluids, ensuring every last drop was accounted for. The potion was an especially fickle one, and he had to ensure each element was precisely prepared. He could do that much at least.

He worked by torchlight in the quiet still room. What time was it? Late, he knew that. He waved his wand, urging the silvery fluid into crystal phials. He eyed each one, ensuring only thirty millilitres sat in each one. He then set to stewing the roots, prodding them with his wand until the water was a smooth medium brown...the same shade as his daughter's eyes.

Done with the work for the night all he could do was think. And his thoughts turned quickly to Hermione. Not long ago, she was in this very room with him, helping him prepare ingredients and telling him about something she'd read, or exchanging jokes with him.

_"And that is why I don't eat meat," Hermione scoffed, poking the dissected goat heart._

_"I don't believe goat heart is typically on the menu," he mused setting his hand on her head. "You're thinking of sheep."_

_Hermione giggled at this. "Have to use every part or we can't call ourselves British anymore."_

_"I do believe that's a Welsh stereotype, love," he said.  
_

_"I don't think so!" Hermione asserted. "It's definitely a Scottish stereotype. The Welsh stereotype-"_

_"You little know-it-all," he laughed._

_"Maybe," Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled. "But I'm _your _little know-it-all."_

_"Always," he kissed her forehead._

And for every memory like that he could dredge up, he could find a more unpleasant one. For all his admonishments that life wasn't fair, he _knew _he had fucked up. Hermione, for his attempt to convince her otherwise, wasn't his biological daughter. He _adopted _her. He _chose _to raise her. It was an impulse decision to be sure, but it was still a choice. He _knew _he was raised by monsters and that he had no idea what healthy parent-child relationships looked like.

He thought back to Hermione curling her tiny hand around his finger, her large brown eyes staring up at him with complete trust and the faintest ghost of a smile across her little face. He remembered how his heart swelled at the gesture, the warmth sent through his body, the sudden and intense urge to protect her from every conceivable threat. He'd once again experienced love at first-perhaps, second- sight, but it was entirely different.

_"It's alright, love," he cooed. "Daddy's got you."  
_

He honestly thought he could do right by her then. Now, he didn't regret his decision to adopt Hermione, though, perhaps, he thought he should. She was the light of his life, as horribly hokey as it sounded, and he repaid her with secrets, lies and repeated invasions. He _wanted_ to be better for her, he was _trying _to be better for her. So why couldn't he?

He wanted what every parent wanted: for Hermione to be safe, healthy and happy. Sheer stubbornness and her unfathomable desire to throw herself head first into dangerous situations meant he had to prioritize the first two. He never could figure out how to give her all three. He made a million mistakes and he was going to make a million more. But if she would just _listen_ to him then-_You're making excuses._

He scowled at the sorted phials and simmering cauldron. There was no more he could do for the time being. He supposed he could reorder the stores for the third time that night. He took the still room apart and put it back together again as he sifted through thousands of memories, the good and the bad.

* * *

"Gone?" Hermione squeaked. "I thought you were carrying it on you?"

"I couldn't risk someone else finding it," Harry whispered. "No one else knew about it though!"

"You should see the dormitory," Ron nodded. "Whoever stole the diary, he went mental looking for it! Opening the mattress and everything!"

_So, they went into the dormitory to steal it back..._Hermione knew three things as soon as Ron said that. One, the student who took it _had _to be in Gryffindor, or else know the password, which was unlikely. Two, the thief did not _have _to be a boy like Ron assumed. And three, Ginny _saw_ the diary on Valentines Day in Harry's possession. She'd suspected it before but now..."I'm a fucking idiot!" Hermione slapped her forehead. "I just-I need to be _absolutely _certain. Give me a bit, I'll be back!"

"Hermione, wait!" Ron called.

But Hermione was already on her way to the girls' first years' dormitory. She felt weird sneaking into the dormitory and slinking up to Ginny's bed, but she didn't want to risk waking Ginny's roommate. She rehearsed the sentence in her head as she drew the curtain back and whispered her name.

Ginny was wide awake, sitting crossed-legged on the bed in a pink dressing down, her wand lit. She turned to face Hermione, purple rings under her brown eyes, red hair disheveled, and her freckled face was not simply pale, but sallow, and thinner than last Hermione had spoke to her for more than five seconds.

"Hermione?" she whispered.

"Ginny," Hermione inhaled sharply. "I-erm-I _know. _I know you took the diary back from Harry. And I know about _Tom."_

Ginny's eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled. She scanned the room to before taking Hermione's arm. "Hermione, I-I've wanted to tell you for so long! I didn't know how!"

"It's okay, Ginny," Hermione soothed her back at a loss. "We can fix this, I promise. Come down, we'll tell Harry and Ron-"

Ginny furiously shook her head sending her flaming locks everywhere. "I'm not ready to tell them. Please, please be patient with me, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lip and clasped her hands. Ginny seemed so scared, and she didn't want to force her to do anything, but she couldn't let anyone else get hurt. If the Tom character from the diary could give them the answers they needed, then Hermione had to do _something._ She thought for a moment before Ginny flung her arms about her.

"I just _knew _you'd understand!" she cried. "You're a good person, Hermione."

Hermione ceased up and a dry lump formed in her throat. _A good person,_ that filled her with relief and hope, but also guilt and disappointment, because she knew she could never live up to that. Not when she so often resorted to manipulating others for information, or relished in insulting people-even if it was followed by a wave of guilt.

"_You've _already figured it out. You really are clever," Ginny stood up and offered her hand. "Come with me and I'll tell _you _everything."

"Harry and Ron are downstairs waiting for me," Hermione whispered. "But you can give me the diary. No one has to know it was you."

"Okay," Ginny took her hands pulled her up, after taking a deep breath. "I'll do it. I trust you."

Hermione lead Ginny down the dark spiral stair case. The two were barely passed the landing when Hermione felt two hands shove her from behind. She lot her footing and tumbled down the stairs feeling each stone edge slam into her as she fell. The wind left her lungs. She tried to grab the wall, but her arm bent backwards sending a sharp pain through it punctuated by a loud _snap. _The tower spun out of control and her head slammed against the stone floor when she finally landing.

"Hermione!" three voices cried at once.

A blurry Ginny on a spinning stair case ran to her gasping for air. "She fainted on the stairs!" she cried.

Then everything went black.

* * *

"Are you absolutely certain?" Severus asked slowly.

A harried Pomfrey set down the pile of blankets on a nearby empty bed. The hospital wing was empty save for the petrification victims. "Yes, I'm absolutely certain," she groaned. "I haven't seen her since two days ago."

_Not the hospital then,_ he thought. She didn't show up to any of her classes, any meals nor did he find her in the library. He thought her not being in the hospital might provide some relief, at least she wasn't petrified-but she could very well have been, or worse. He thought about the chance that she had been avoiding him, it wouldn't be the first time, but it didn't explain why she would skip _all _of her classes and not attend a single meal that day.

"Let me know if that changes," he said.

It was after seven and he wondered if any of her friends would be milling about the castle. Something he wished he'd thought of sooner. Like the idiot he was, he assumed she had been avoiding him at first, and focused on the reverse-petrification potion between his classes and meals. It was only after Hermione failed to show up to supper that he'd thought there might be something wrong. And instead of asking her friends as they filed out of the Great Hall, he'd checked her regular haunts. She _could _have spent the entire day in the common room, but it would be out of character for her.

"Hi, Harry!" Lovegood's voice called from around a corner.

He rounded the corridor to find Potter and Weasley stop muttering to themselves to acknowledge the girl.

"Hi, Luna," Potter said. "Look, we're kind of-wait, you and Hermione are friends, right?"

"I like to think so," Lovegood said in an uncharacteristically cold voice.

"And in the same year as my little sister?" Weasley asked quickly. "Have you seen her? Either of them, actually?"

Lovegood shook her head. "I was going to ask you if you'd seen Hermione. She seemed off yesterday and-"

"Are you sure?" Weasley asked. "She seemed fine last night before she fainted."

"She's not in the hospital," Lovegood said. "Neither of them. She fainted?"

"Yeah," Potter nodded. "Hermione fainted on the stairs, hit her head pretty hard. Ginny said she'd watch her if we went to get help. But neither of us remember what happened after that. We woke up in the portrait hole. But we checked the hospital, and no one else has seen them either. They're just gone."

"Gone?" Lovegood swallowed. "You don't think-"

"We really don't have time for your games!" Weasley snapped before turning to Potter. "Where haven't we checked yet?"

_She hit her head, she can't have gone far, and the Weasley girl is about the same size but looks weak, can't have carried her far..._he thought. He got about as much information as he thought he was going to get by listening. _She hit her head pretty hard...please, please, let her be okay. _His heart dropped and his blood ran cold as he processed this. His child was injured and missing. She could be anywhere, and she could be in any condition. What if she-_no, that's impossible!_ He ignored the tightening of his throat and the lead in his lungs as he made himself known.

"Tell me exactly what happened last night." he said.

The boys exchanged a nervous glance and fell silent, as if trying to communicate what was safe to tell him and what wasn't. He felt the frozen terror within him shift to a heated desperation. Those boys had no idea what they were doing! Hermione could have been anywhere, and they were wasting time! Now his heart pounded in his ears and he folded his arms over his chest, clutching his arms with shaking hands. It was all he could do not to seize the boys by their shoulders and shake them.

"_She's my child!_" he cried. "Whatever the hell you little idiots are into, I _don't_ give a damn! With everything going on this is _not _the time for your little secrets! _I just want my daughter back!_ Now, you are going to tell me exactly what happened last night and you'll leave out no detail!"

As they relayed the story of them waiting for her in the common room and seeing her fall down the stairs and coming back to find both her and the Weasley girl gone, Severus honed in on Potter's eyes. His impression that he'd leave things out was correct. He saw images of Hermione with the boys in the library showing them the passage on basilisks, a diary found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, him writing in side diary and it writing back,A silver plaque with the name TM Riddle on it, Hermione pacing the length of a corridor and shouting, an argument between the three of them. Then he saw Hermione hit with a sudden brainwave, slap her forehead and rush up the stairs. It was followed by a final image of Hermione lying at the base of the stairs, her hair wet with blood oozing from the back of her skull, the boys knelt over her while a panicked Ginny Weasley dashed down the stairs to her side.

"You disgusting little boy," he seethed. "I wanted details because I want to find her-both of them-before something happens. I made the mistake of thinking you did too. You do what you should have done immediately and tell Professor McGonagall they're missing! _Now_!"

Severus immediately marched up to Dumbledore's office. _T.M Riddle_, why was that name at the forefront of Potter's mind? There was no way he knew...the diary! That was the focal point of his memories. Perhaps a former Death Eater manipulated from the other end? He didn't know, but imagined Dumbledore would. But what possible interest would whoever it was have in two little girls?

He entered Dumbledore's office to find him speaking to the fireplace, his face troubled as he stroked his beard.

"I think you have the wrong man, Cornelius," he said. "We haven't had an incident since December, and the victims will be revived soon. Yes, I see. We will talk about my-as you so kindly put it- 'mishandling' of the situation later. Another matter requires my attention. No, it can't wait."

Fudge clenched his jaw in displeasure before sighing and vanishing from the flames.

"No goodbye? How dreadfully rude," Dumbledore sighed before turning to him. "Severus, what is it?"

"Hermione's missing!" he said, hardly wanting to believe the words he spoke. "The Weasley girl too. The went missing late last night. And I don't think it's unrelated to the Chamber."

Dumbledore peered at him from over his half-moon spectacles, his face grave. "And what brought you to this conclusion, Severus?"

"Potter," he paced the office_. _"He found _Riddle's _diary in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The three of them seemed to connect some of the dots. I think whoever enchanted it to speak from the other end has a way to manipulate their correspondent. She must have found out. I _told _her not to get involved in all of this. She-" _is injured badly and losing time. Probably terrified, _he turned to Dumbledore. "Do you have _any_ idea where the chamber might be?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid not, Severus. We'll call the students to their dormitories and call a meeting to search the castle. I'll have to let Molly and Arthur Weasley know their daughter's gone missing." He then gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We'll find them."

* * *

_Drip, Drip, Drip._

Hermione awoke on a damp, cold stone floor with a ringing in her ears that faded in time for her to hear the faint but constant dripping. Her head pounded, dizziness plagued her as she attempted to rise. She tried to put weight on her arm and fell back as a sharp pain shot through her body. She let a pained scream as tears stung her eyes. She fell back onto the stone floor and reached for her wand.

"Finally awake, are we?" Ginny said, lighting her wand. "Looking for this?"

The room was a long and narrow chamber with a snake motif, serpents wound about dark grey pillars. A chill lingered in the damp air as Hermione tried to memorize the details from the high vaulted ceiling to the smooth stone walls. She looked for windows and found none. The ceiling, the cold floor, the lack of windows. The scent of the air made her think of the chambers through the trapdoor on the third floor corridor in the previous year. She was certain they were underground. She couldn't find a way out.

Underground, snake motif...They were in the chamber of secrets!

Ginny knelt beside her, an uncharacteristically malicious grin on her face. Hermione noticed that the wand Ginny held was not her own, but hers! Hermione thought back to the last thing she remembered. "You pushed me!" she squeaked. "You- you're not Ginny, are you?"

'Ginny' let out an evil laugh and touched her face. "Took you long enough. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one!"

Hermione thought back to Ginny's weakening state, her trying to tell her something. She had suspected it, but convinced herself she was wrong. "You're the spirit that possessed the diary...Riddle."

"Close," Gin-Riddle said. "I had to move up my schedule because of you. I wanted to wait till I had drained enough of little Ginny to manifest my own body before meeting Harry Potter again. But you just had to figure out it was Ginny that stole the book back. Almost fed you to my basilisk for the trouble."

Hermione stared into Ginny's brown eyes, and felt there was already no trace of her, all she saw was Riddle's cruelty. She didn't like the way he searched her face and smirked. It made her skin crawl. "Why," she forced. "Didn't you?"

"I considered it, but even a broken little girl like you has a use," he said. "I was so worried you'd go and tell Harry, but you were just _too easy _to play!" he clasped Ginny's hands and widened her eyes before adopting a squeak. "I just knew you'd understand! You're a _good person, _Hermione. You're so clever, Hermione! And of course, the nail in the coffin, _I trust you!" _

Hermione shuddered. He was right, Hermione played right into his hands.

"You fell right in line, all I had to do was play into your insecurities. But I couldn't lay it on too thick, or you wouldn't trust it because you just _know _you're unworthy of love. You're mental, you're broken, a bad person. All you are is what you can do for others, and you're useless. No wonder Daddy finds you _insufferable._"

Tears poured down Hermione's cheeks. She knew exactly what Riddle was doing, but it didn't make any of what he said hurt less, or any less true. "But Ginny..."

"Oh, she was even easier!" he laughed. "Listening to her insipid concerns. What if Harry doesn't like me? What if all my classmates hate me? I think I _love _Harry. Hermione reached out to me today. I think I'd like to be her friend, but she's so close to Harry and Ron-what if she finds out and _says _something."

Hermione flinched as if she'd been slapped. Ginny _wanted _to be friends with her, and Hermione only paid attention to her because she'd suspected her. So inhaled sharply. "What do you want with Harry?"

"To meet the boy who could best Lord Voldemort as a baby, of course. I need to know how that child of a blood traitor and a mudblood could defeat such a great wizard. But it's not so bad we're early." he lifted her chin. "I'll kill you when he comes for you and leave Ginny just in time for the little blood traitor to see the last breath leave your frail, little body. I'll take the last of her strength and Harry Potter will see what _real _power is!"

"You were-" Hermione shivered. "1943 was before the Dark Lord's time, you can't be a Death Eater."

"Right you are, Hermione," he gave a rather nasty smile. "You'll know exactly who I am when Harry comes to rescue you-I mean _us."_


	33. B2Ch17:Phoenix & the Power of Friendship

"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley told me about Hermione," McGonagall's mouth twisted in worry. "Are you-"

"I'll be fine once I've gotten her back," he answered before she could ask.

Hermione had a surprisingly accurate track record. He'd dismissed her concerns about the pipes, but what if she was right? That would mean the plumbing could lead to the chamber. The problem was, he didn't know if he could follow the network of copper one way or the other. Hermione only could when she had cat ears and could listen in. And enhancing his hearing would only work if the beast was on the move. Unlikely with two victims in the chamber. And that was _if _that was what happened. Though connecting the name and the diary to their disappearance suggested that theory was right. Now that he thought of it, that image from Hermione's dream, the diary the Weasley girl held and the one Potter found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom were quite similar. And it was her that died fifty years ago in that bathroom.

Dumbledore called the staff to order and the worried chatter and well-meaning but poorly-timed sympathies. The silence and stillness in the room weighed heavy on each of them. Looking around at the grave faces and nervous glances cast about the room reminded him of their involvement in Hermione's upbringing. He clenched his fist beneath the table and steadied his breath. He pushed the image of Hermione bleeding out with a twisted arm at the base of the stairs from his mind. He was going to find her, and she was going to be fine.

_"I will always keep you safe," he smiled with his hand on his six-year-old's head. "That's a promise."_

_"From what?" Hermione asked._

_"From everything that could ever harm you," he kissed her forehead._

Severus failed to keep that promise. He couldn't help but wonder if he could have done anything to change this outcome. He wondered if he'd been more gentle with her if she'd have come to him sooner. Perhaps there was something that could have been done, he could have done something about the Weasley girl being manipulated (if that was the case). What if he'd listened to her when she told him about the pipes? If he'd done any of those things Hermione might not have felt the need to pursue her leads on her own. If he'd just _listened _to her.

_"Tell me you didn't just-" Hermione choked with tears in her eyes._

_"Tell you I didn't just do what, love?"_

_"D-Did you just- forget it."_

Why did he do that? It wasn't the only difficult conversation he'd steered Hermione away from over the years. She was already crippled by doubt, and he let her think-there _had _to have been another way to handle that. How did all of his attempts to keep her safe fail so miserably? He'd been so useless! And now she was somewhere out there, lost, cold, injured and terrified. She wasn't alone, but that was a small comfort. Did her abductor patch her up before moving her? That image from Potter's memories-there was so much blood...

_Please, _he appealed to whatever higher powers maybe. _I just want my baby back safe in my 't let it be too late._

"In case this is somehow unrelated," Dumbledore said. "I currently have Hagrid combing the Forbidden Forest. And I-"

"Is that really a good idea, Albus?" Lockhart asked. "We all know Hagrid-"

"Was fucking framed!" Severus shouted slamming his fist on the table and rising. "You don't know a damn thing! I'm not losing my little girl because you like the _grating_ sound of your own voice. So you can do us all a favour and shut the hell up for once in your miserable life, you insufferable moron!"

Lockhart stupidly gaped at him, blinking his blue eyes as he flushed a furious pink. He turned to Flitwick and then to McGonagall and found no support. His face fell as realized he hadn't the favour of a single person in the room.

"You disgust me, Lockhart," he said before turning to Dumbledore. "How are you divvying the search? Hermione told me she thought it was using the pipes to move around. I dismissed her at the time-" he struggled.

"But now you think she might have known something?" Dumbledore mused. "I'll send a party out to the dungeons and see if there's an opening they can take advantage of. Now let's see. Minevra, the Weasleys will be here shortly, you should be in your office to meet them. Now everyone else-"

Dumbledore paired the professor up and sent them in different sections of the castle. Severus noticed he was not part of 'everyone else' and was left to wonder-to dread-what that meant as he watched his coworkers leave two by two.

"A word, Severus," he said after the last of them left.

"I'm not going anywhere, am I?" Severus said, cradling his clenched fist on the table's surface.

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles with a sympathetic twinkle in his blue eyes as his mouth formed a thin worried line. "I think it's best if you wait with the Weasleys."

"_Wait?" _he scoffed. "My _daughter _is in danger and you want me to _wait?_"

"The same situation as the Weasleys," he said. "I assure you, they are just as distressed as you are."

"We both know I'm a hell of a lot more combat ready than they are!" Severus snapped.

Dumbledore frowned at this. "And will you be if you find _Hermione _is the one being manipulated? Will you be if she's de-"

_"No!"_ he cried before rubbing his arms staving off the image of Hermione bleeding out once more. "She isn't! She can't be! I-I would _know!" _

He so badly wanted to believe that. Every parent claimed as such, but Severus knew he and Hermione were different. He didn't know she was injured, he didn't know she was kidnapped. But, though he wasn't there when she took her first breath, he _had _to know if she'd taken her last.

"I'm the last person to deny the profound connection between parent and child," Dumbledore sighed. "We both know it's a magic most powerful. But, I'm afraid, Severus, too many parents are wrong in that respect."

An invisible hand clutched at Severus's throat. He heard Hermione's little laugh in his head, saw her smile, a million memories flooded his mind. Stupid thoughts and questions accompanied the memories like, the fact that she loved her little novel series, would she ever read it again? Would she ever pet a cat again? Chastise the owl again? Roll her eyes and groan at him again? All this time he dreaded her growing up and no longer needing him, but now he wanted nothing more than the chance to see the kind of woman she'd grow up to be. For the first time in over a decade he felt tears sting his eyes in front of another human-being.

"Hermione is my daughter. I _need _to find her," he choked. "Please, Albus."

Dumbledore sighed and squeezed his shoulder. "You are just going to have to trust that this is for the best."

"But-"

"That is an order, Severus."

Severus clenched his jaw and looked away. He collected himself before reestablishing eye contact. "Every second we're arguing is time you could be looking. I'll do as you wish."

Dumbledore nodded, squeezing his shoulder once more. "We'll find her, Severus. I promise."

He watched Dumbledore leave and formulated a plan. For the first time since he was under Dumbledore's employ, he was going to disobey a direct order. He couldn't save Lily, but he could save his daughter. No matter what, he was not going to lose the only person he loved all over again. He'd get her back. He made a promise.

* * *

The ground shook and a thundering crash of falling rocks echoed somewhere beyond the dimly lit chamber. Hermione fixed her eyes on the end of the chamber where she'd heard it and faintly smiled.

"Looks like Harry won't be coming for us after all," she scoffed. "You lost, Riddle." _I'm so sorry, Ginny..._

"So young," Riddle sighed. "And so ready to die. You really are broken, aren't you?"

Hermione didn't want to die. She had a million things she wanted to do. She wanted to see her friends again, she wanted to make amends with her father, she wanted to fall in love, have a first kiss, to the world beyond the castles of Hogwarts and Mahoukatoro. But she wasn't happy, though willing to give all of those things, a million other simple pleasures, up for the sake of her friends. If they were trapped here forever, no one else would get hurt. They would all move on and live happy lives. That was worth it. Riddle was much older and should have been wiser, but he just looked at her in confusion. How could he not understand it?

Hermione pushed aside her terror and hoped the tears in her eyes weren't noticeable in the dim light. "You'll spend forever here buried alive with the corpses of two broken little girls. Your master plan was all for nothing."

"Oh, Hermione," he laughed lifting her chin. "Do you _really _think _I _could be stopped by some rubble. Once I've finished with you two, I'll get my answers and kill Harry, slowly. Then I'll free myself and destroy _everyone _you've ever held dear."

"You forgot one thing," she hissed. "Harry doesn't know where we are. No one does!"

Hermione heard a mechanical clicking in the distance accompanied by hissing. Someone _had _found the entrance to the chamber after all and her blood froze. Riddle was going to win. Hermione had done nothing but lure Harry into the trap. A new terror clutched her heart as she realised they were all going to die and it was all her fault! She wanted to cry out that it was a trap but her words stopped in her throat as the tears poured down her face.

_Fight it, call out. Do it now! _"Harry!" she managed, her voice shrill with terror. "It's-"

Riddle buried her face in Ginny's chest before she could finish. She felt him tremble as he held her tightly. Hermione tried to yell through the fabric, but only muffled sounds escaped, which she doubted Harry heard over Ginny's voice perfectly mimicking a terrified cry.

"We're over here!" he cried. "Someone please help! H-he took us! We were so scared!" he leaned into her ear. "Looks like I win."

"Ginny! Hermione!" Harry called, footsteps echoing on the stone floor. "Are you two okay?"

Hermione struggled with her good arm before scratching Ginny's shoulder. Riddle wasn't expecting that, and he released her.

"It's a trap!" she cried. "Leave!"

"Hermione," Riddle trembled while hugging her tightly. "Sh-she's not making any sense since she woke up. I tr-tried to heal her but-"

"Must be her head," Harry said. "Help me get her on my back and we'll leave."

"Oh, Harry!" Riddle started sobbing and released Hermione.

"Harry, don't-" Hermione started.

Riddle flung Ginny's arms around Harry's neck and sobbed gently into his chest. "I was so, so scared. Thank you for coming to save us! You're my hero!"

"It's okay, Ginny," Harry hugged her back, a little awkwardly. "Let's get out of here."

"Oh, Harry," Ginny's panicked sob turned to a cold and malicious sneer. "I'm the only one who's leaving here."

Harry shut his eyes and gasped through gritted teeth as Riddle dug Ginny's nails into his back.

"And that's only after I've drained Ginny enough to sustain my body," he laughed. "And I'll leave her corpse with yours."

Harry pulled back. "Ginny? What- _who _are you?"

"Me?" Riddle put on an innocent voice. "I'm the heir of Slytherin. But you know me as Tom."

Harry's green eyes widened in horror and his face went white. He gaped at Riddle in silence. For a moment the only sounds heard in the chamber was the dripping of droplets to the ground from the vaulted ceiling.

"Tom? Tom Riddle?" he choked. "_You're _the heir. You can't be! You showed me-"

"Oh, Harry," Riddle cooed. "How thick can you be? I _framed _Hagrid. His little pet 'Aragog' was convienent. Dippet liked me, you see. I was a prefect, had perfect grades, headboy, ten OWLs, all Os, and I was an orphan! All I had to do was say the filthy half-giant was keeping a dark creature, and any suspicion was shaken after the attacks stopped. Pity I didn't kill more mudbloods back then," he sighed. "That arrogant transfiguration teacher Dumbledore was the only one who could see through my act. But I put enough doubt in that bumbling old fool!"

"Dumbledore's not an old fool!" Harry bellowed. "_He _saw through your act. And you've lost, Riddle! Not a single muggle-born died!"

"I haven't lost Harry," he smirked. "I don't care about killing mudbloods anymore. This was all about you. The famous Harry Potter. I wanted to meet you."

"Why?" he asked, his wand now poised on him.

"Because I don't understand," Riddle's cool voice turned angry. "How could you, a baby, defeat Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard of all time."

"Voldemort is not the greatest wizard!" Harry seethed. "He never understood that love is the strongest magic."

"You sound like that blithering fool, Dumbledore!"

"He's not a fool!" he spat. "You are for following Voldemort!"

"You _dare _to speak that name to me, Potter!"

Hermione watched in silent horror as he friend circled the possessed Ginny. Wandless, helpless, injured...Hermione didn't know what to do. How, without magic, or the ability to stand straight, could she purge Riddle from Ginny and save Harry? Was there anything she could do? _Get your shit together or they both die!_

"I dare. Why do you care so much?" Harry glared.

"Because," Riddle drew the letters with Hermione's wand in gold flame.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle _and rearranged the letters to spell a new sentence. _I AM LORD VOLDEMORT._

* * *

Weasley, covered in debris, paced the width of the underground corridor while Lockhart sat uselessly beside a pile of rubble blocking off the rest of the corridor.

"What," he said as he came upon them, but he stared at the wall of rubble that lay between him and his daughter. "Are you two doing here?"

The rocks were large, but in no way supporting the tunnel. He could clear it, but it would take time to make sure it didn't collapse on them. He started removing smaller rocks from the top and suddenly wished he had the foresight to bring a house elf to apparate him past the barrier.

"He tried to flee. We thought he could help us get Ginny and Hermione back," he said in an uncertain voice. "But he lied about all those things he said he did. Tried to erase our memories."

"You're an idiot, Weasley," he sighed. "Where's Potter?"

Weasley's mouth twisted and he pointed at the wall of rubble. "We got an opening big enough for Harry to go through and it recollapsed."

_Of fucking course. _"There's a broomstick by the entrance. Take that useless git beside you-"

"Hey!" Lockhart said. "Just because I don't remember who-"

"I don't fucking care!" he spat, still dismantling the wall. "Weasley. Take Lockhart and fly back up. Find Dumbledore and tell him you-"

"But my sister-"

"Has a much better chance if I don't have to stop you from getting yourself killed! Now go!"

"Come on, Professor," he knelt next to Lockhart. "Let's get you out of here."

"Oh, lovely," Lockhart said. "With that man's broom? How strange..."

Severus worked away at the rubble, ensuring that nothing could collapse back in on itself. He didn't need to clear the whole wall if he was selective. He carrefully plucked rock after rock, one-by-one until he finally had a secure opening large enough for him to go through while moving three injured or unconscious children.

_It won't be long now. _He thought climbing through the opening. _Just hang on, Hermione._

_Shit. _

Severus now stared at a chamber door, locked shut with serpentine mechanisms clasped to the wall of the vault at their mouths. He drew his wand and began to run through every lock and portal related spell he knew.

* * *

"_You're _Voldemort," Harry said. "But I-"

"Well," Riddle laughed. "It's a little more difficult than that. You see, I'm a version of myself. A mere memory. One that Ginny here nursed to health every time she wrote in that diary of mine. At first it was dreadfully boring. The insipid thoughts of an eleven-year-old girl when all I wanted was you. The boy who killed Voldemort as a baby. We're so much a like, you and I-"

"I'm nothing like you!" Harry snapped. "Look at the pain and misery you've caused!"

Riddle gave Harry a sickening grin that churned Hermione's stomach. "But we _are _alike, Harry. Both orphans, both half-bloods. Hell, we even look alike. But for some reason you cling to your mudblood mother, while I rejected my muggle father and fashioned a new name for myself. So I bided my time with little Ginny, playing the concerned friend till I could meet you. 'What if no one likes me'? 'All my school things are second hand'! 'What if Harry doesn't like me?' So tiresome. Got interesting after a time. 'I think I'm going mad, Tom! I woke up covered in blood!' Then after she foolishly tried to flush me away. I fell into your hands and I could start working. Imagine my disappointment when Ginny stole me back. All because she didn't want _you _to know all the terrible things she'd done."

"The terrible things _you _did!" Hermione spat. "You were just using her body. That makes her completely innocent!"

"Completely innocent?" Riddle scoffed pointing her own wand at her. "How many times did you reach out to that girl just to be turned away? All because she didn't you to tell her precious Harry to find out. Stupid little girl. Which makes her completely culpable for this! Are you watching, Harry? You need to _see _the pain and suffering _you've_ brought to those you claim to love. _Cru-"_

_"Expelliarmus!" _Harry cried.

_"_Damn it!"

Hermione remembered what Riddle said about Ginny's body weakening while he gained strength. An arrogant monster like Riddle wouldn't want to be stuck in a frail little girl's body any longer than he had to, even if he was having fun tormenting them with her form. Hermione grabbed Ginny's ankle and threw him off balance. She wasn't sure if it was Harry's spell or her pulling him that caused him to fall to the ground, but it didn't matter. She could try to recover her wand, and the diary.

"You've outlived your purpose! I have the answers I want!" he cried in a shrill inhuman voice.

_Didn't like being disarmed by a twelve-year-old boy, did you? _

He turned to the stone relief of Salazar Slytherin's face and began hissing-speaking Parsel tongue- to it. _The basilisk!_

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked digging a compact mirror from her pocket with her good-arm. "Point it downward! Don't look at its eyes!"

"I didn't plan on it!" he called back. "Thanks!"

Harry scrambled to pick it up and Hermione heard the sound of grinding stone and saw a massive serpentine snout slide begin to slide out of the opening. She turned her attention to the distracted Riddle. He called out taunts and Hermione appreciated just how massive the emerald serpent slithering around the chamber was. Harry was armed with no more than a compact mirror and his wand.

Riddle shouted taunts at Harry. Hermione didn't seem to matter as a tool to torment Harry and Ginny further, so she enjoyed a level of invisibility she could use. She dragged herself to her wand. She was jealous more than ever of her father's ability to cast nonverbally, once she cast the spell, Riddle would be on to her.

"_Accio diary!" _she whispered.

The diary appeared flew from Ginny's dressing gown pocket and into Hermione's hand. She swallowed staring at Ginny's face contorted in Riddle's smug evil smile.

_He's bluffing..._ "_Incendio!" _She cried setting the diary aflame.

She expected to see the corners of the pages curl and blacken under the orange flame. She expected to reduce the journal to ash. Instead, Hermione watched in horror as the flames licked the pages, and nothing happened. The book was immune.

"You think a mere flame can erase _me!" _he cackled. "Surrender the wand without a fight and I'll consider killing you quickly. It's only a matter of time before Harry succumbs to my basilisk. Which means you've lost your value as a plaything."

"_Petrifi-" _

Riddle lunged at her with a fury. The two wrestled for control of the wand. Ginny was roughly Hermione's size, perhaps a bit thinner, and weakened by Riddle's desire to resurrect his shade. But Hermione had a great disadvantage as well, with one functioning arm and a head injury that made her slow, and uncoordinated. When Riddle came close to winning the struggle Hermione sank her teeth into Ginny's arm. Blood filled Hermione mouth as Riddle drew back...with the wand.

"_Ava-"_

_Love is the greatest magic..._ "Ginny!" Hermione cried in a move that felt more like something Luna would try than her. "I know you're in there! You said you wanted to be friends! I do too. So does Harry! So, please, don't give up! Your brothers are worried and waiting for you to go back to them! Your mum and your dad, they miss you and want nothing more than for you to be okay, even if they can't admit it!"

"Oh, you're just embarrassing yourself, Hermione," Riddle guffawed, but rubbed Ginny's temple as if he were beginning to get a head ache."And I'm tired-"

"I meant it when I said Riddle did all those horrible things! I know you'd never do that! You care too much! For pity's sake, you cried over a cat _everyone _hates! If you need forgiveness for using the diary in the first place, then you have it!" Hermione saw the hesitation in Ginny's face and went to a deeply emotional place that she rather pretend didn't exist. But looking into Ginny's tear-filled brown eyes gave Hermione hope she could save her. _This speech is better from Ron or Harry, but please let me be enough!_ "I know what it's like to be alone, to cling to anything that resembles a friendship because you just want to be wanted. To be _needed_! Riddle played with your emotions, he played me too! But you _are _a good person, Ginny. You _are _loved and worthy of it!" Hermione took Ginny's hand. "You're more than the mistakes you've made. You deserve a second chance, Ginny!"

Ginny's expression changed and Hermione's wand clattered to the floor. "H-Hermione?" she choked falling to her knees and clutching her head. Hermione thought she had beaten Riddle out, but the hand grabbed the wand back, and Ginny's expression became one contorted in animalistic pain.

"You'll pay for that, you little bitch!" he snarled. "_Cr- gah!"_

Hermione didn't know if it was Ginny or Riddle screaming in pain, rocking back and forth and clutching her head. She watched in horror as the agonized grimaced turned to an evil grin. "You think the power of friendship will save you?" he choked. "But you're not even friends, are you? This is-"

Before Riddle could finish the most beautiful song Hermione had ever heard echoed through the chamber. A brilliant orange and scarlet bird flew overhead and dropped a thing of dark fabric at Harry's feet. _Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes! _Hermione's attention was torn from Riddle to the horrific scene. Harry stood before the massive basilisk, ready to attack him. The basilisk coiled to strike but Fawkes lunged for its eyes, the basilisk screeching in pain until bloody wholes were all that remained.

"It can still hear you, Harry!" he gasped, still rocking back and forth on Ginny's knees. "Is this is what Dumbledore, the supposed greatest wizard to ever live, gives you? A songbird and an old hat?"

_Why would Dumbledore send...the sorting hat? _Then Hermione remembered the legend of Gordric Gryffindor's sword. Only a true Gryffindor could draw the sword from the hat, but Hermione couldn't tell Harry that. Not without Riddle hearing it. And he was starting to regain control of Ginny's body. Ginny had enough strength to make things difficult for him, but not enough to stay in control. Hermione took the struggle to grab her wand back. She extinguished the flames on the diary and all but dove on top of it.

Harry picked up the hat and drew a long silver twelfth century sword from it, the rubies in its hilt glinting in the torchlight. Even in the dark chamber with a massive, blind basilisk and a shade of teenaged Voldemort fighting for control of Ginny's body, she couldn't help but stare in awe at the sword Harry rose above his head. The effect-for lack of a better word- was magical. As if she'd seen Arthur himself draw the Kingsword from the stone. Some part of Hermione realized Harry was just beginning to tap into his heroic potential.

The basilisk lunged at Harry and that sense of awe, beauty and purpose was quickly replaced with a cold terror. Was this it? Harry didn't dodge this time, but instead readied the sword, and put all his weight behind it, leaping into the beasts mouth.

"Harry!" Hermione and Ginny shrieked.

"Ginny?!" Hermione turned her head to see Ginny watching, equally horrified, though she still clutched her head and rocked back and forth. Ginny's concern for Harry seemed to only give her a brief moment. Before Riddle tried to resurface. She turned back to Harry.

Harry stood with the sword buried into the basilisk's upper jaw, his right arm trembling as blood spilled on to him in a crimson torrent. He wavered removing the sword with both hands and a heavy grunt.

"_No!" _Hermione gasped.

Harry walked toward them gasping, wavering back and forth before falling to the his knees before him. He gritted his teeth and tears pooled in his green eyes behind his blood-splattered spectacles. He clutched his right arm and a large ivory fang jutted from the crook of his elbow. A basilisk fang... _Basilisk venom destroys everything...no cure but-Fawkes!_

Fawkes didn't need to be told that. He flew right to Harry, singing as he perched himself beside Harry, tears in his beautiful black eyes, leaning over Harry's wound.

"You've lost!" Riddle gasped. "Even Ginny knows it. Gave up as soon as she saw the fang! All three of you will be joining your mudblood mother soon enough! That's what your friendship and Dumbledore's _love _bought you! Basilisk venom destroys everything, Harry! Even the boy who lived!"

"_Everything,_" Hermione repeated lifting herself off the diary sliding the diary to Harry.

Harry nodded, taking her meaning and opened the diary before tearing the fang from his arm with a pained scream.

""You bested my beast, but I've won the war." Riddle laughed missing the exchange.

"I reckon we won!" Harry forced a smile.

"Look at Dumbledore's pathetic bird. It's _crying!" _Riddle spat. "You're dying, Harry!"

"And so are you!" Harry cried stabbing the open diary.

"That won't-" Riddle let out a shriek and fell into a fetal position. "_No!"_

"By the way," Hermione hissed, looking at Riddle. "Phoenix tears neutralize basilisk venom, dumbass!"

Ink spurted from the diary like blood from a pierced artery. A pained shriek echoed from both Ginny's mouth and echoed off the chamber walls, rattling their very skeletons and curdling their blood. Hermione expected a blinding light, a sudden breeze to banish the pages, but soon with no further fanfare the chamber went silent.

Harry, exhausted collapsed to his stomach opposite Hermione. Two pale hands reached out to Hermione and Harry's, they turned to see Ginny, drenched in sweat and she smiled faintly. The three of them exchanged uneasy smiles. Whatever happened after that moment, they won and they had each other.


	34. B2:Ch19: Return to Normal-Sort of

"Weasley!" Severus snapped. "I thought I told you to go get help!"

Weasley's eyes bulged as he backed away, waving his grime covered hands in front of him. "It's not my fault! Lockhart-"

Severus turned his attention to his colleague, looking rather punch drunk holding a broken broomstick, wavering back and forth in the dim light.

"Never mind," he spat. "I don't want to know."

He recited more spells from memory to no avail. The damn things wouldn't move. The mechanical snakes held fast to the wall, mocking him. Severus wasn't sure how long he stood in the entry way trying to the damn thing open. He didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to run out of spells. He was close to summoning a universal solvent, but he wondered if the damn snakes were enchanted against it as well.

_Snakes..._ "Weasley," he said. "How did Potter open the initial opening?"

"Erm," the boy hesitated. "He told it to open in Paseltongue, sir."

_Of course! _He grabbed the boy by the shoulders, who in return stared at him, blue eyes wide in terror, he mouth twisted as if he didn't know what to expect. "Did you hear what it sounded like, Weasley? Do you remember?" He asked, shaking the boy. "Please, tell me!"

"Erm," he gulped. "Let me try and remember!"

He released the boy, ashamed. Grabbing the boy and shouting at him wasn't going to help him remember. He stared at the door and searched his own mind for anything. He did not like that his presence was proving to be useless. He was failing her, _again. _He stared at the door as if he could will it to open when Weasley began making strange hissing noises in an attempt to imitate Parseltongue.

The door remained shut.

He tapped his chin pensively as he thought about other ways to go about entering the room. He'd by now exhausted every magical solution at his disposal and he knew he hadn't the physical strength to prise it open.

Weasley stepped closer to the door with a sense of purpose and in a determined voice repeated the hissing noises with a slight variation. To Severus's surprise the snake mouths opened, unclasping from the wall with a whirring of clockwork. One by one the snakes retracted in a writhing motion into the opposite wall the round door sprung open toward them.

"I can't believe that worked," Weasley gasped.

"That was-" Severus started when a scarlet and orange bird waddled through the opening. "_Fawkes?_"

The phoenix looked up at Severus with his beady black eyes before tilting his head and blinking.

_How did you even- _his thoughts were interrupted when three more left the room.

Relief washed over him. Hermione was fine! Maybe not fine, but alive and not gravely inured. She stood between Potter and the Weasley girl, her hair matted and stained with dried blood, and her left arm hanging limply at her side, leaning on Potter who was absolutely drenched in much fresher blood, clutching the _sword of Gryffindor_ (he suddenly understood why Fawkes was there). Hermione stared at the Weasley girl, who looked uneasy, rubbing her shoulders and refusing to look anyone in the eye, but she was unharmed.

"Hermione!" he cupped her face in his hands and examined her. "Are you hurt? Stupid question, of course you are," he produced a sling and gingerly secured her limp arm within it.

Once he knew her head and arm were okay, he pulled her into a tight hug. His daughter standing in his arms, alive with only treatable injuries, was perhaps the single greatest feeling of relief he'd ever felt. Hermione was okay, nothing else mattered.

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again!" he clutched her tightly to him and repeatedly kissed the top of her head.

"Dad," Hermione choked. "You're suffocating me!"

"Oh," he said in an equally small voice, loosening his grip. "Sorry."

"I'm fine," she gasped with a weak smile after a moment, returning the hug with her one good arm before kissing his cheek.

A sniff came from the other end of the corridor and both father and daughter were reminded that they weren't alone.

Severus regained his composure and rose from the ground to see the Weasley siblings pausing their own reunion staring at Lockhart, who clung to a struggling Potter's shoulders, beaming at the two pairs.

"Isn't this beautiful?" he asked.

"Geroffme!" Potter hissed.

The Weasley boy stifled a snigger with his hand while the girl smiled weakly. Hermione rolled her eyes and clapped her good hand to her forehead.

"Let the boy go," Severus groaned pinching the bridge of his nose.

Lockhart released Potter and Hermione narrowed her eyes at the man.

"What happened to him?"she asked.

"Wiped his own memory, while trying to attack us," Potter grumbled.

"Merlin, he _attacked _you?"

"Yeah," Potter nodded. "Turns out you were right...about _a lot _of things."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably under Potter's gaze before turning her eyes to the Weasley girl. She let out a small sigh and turned her gaze to her feet. "I'm not so sure that really mattered. Not where-erm-y'know, it doesn't matter. It's over now."

"Oh my," Lockhart piped up. "Little girl, looks like you hit your head, too. Do you remember who you are?"

Hermione's gaze shifted again to the wavering blond man with an exasperation that seemed odd for a child lucky to be a live. "I thought you said he wiped his own memory?"

"Also fell off a broom," Weasley added. "Hit his head on the way down, but seems fine."

"Honestly!" Hermione covered her eyes. "I fall down a flight of stairs and am unconscious for hours, but _he _is hit with a backfiring spell _and _hits head, but we still have put up with him?"

"Hey!" Lockhart called. "We can hear you. You are a very rude little girl."

"I'll feel guilty if you wind up being brain damaged," Hermione sighed, though her voice indicated she was feeling guilty now.

"How could you tell?" both boys laughed.

Hermione smiled, but failed to laugh at this.

"If you three are done with your little banter," Severus rested his hand on Hermione's head. "Perhaps we should consider leaving, yes?"

"But Lockhart broke the broom," Weasley pointed out.

Hermione's eyes widened and drifted to Fawkes, who absently plucked at his red and orange plumage before turning her gaze to him. "Dad, no," she squeaked.

* * *

"Go on," Hermione coughed between wretches. "I'll catch-"

"She _really _doesn't like heights, does she?" Ginny Weasley asked in a small voice.

"No," Weasley responded. "The morning before our first flying lesson she-erm-" he suddenly remembered both Hermione and Severus were in present company. "Never mind."

After about a minute passed Fawkes indicated a desire to lead and Severus watched as Potter and the Weasleys followed the waddling bird with an incessant Lockhart asking a million questions. Hermione and Severus tailed behind, the girl still unsteady on her feet. A grim silence took over the ridiculous procession until they the waddling phoenix stopped at McGonagall's office door.

There had been so many things he'd wanted to say to Hermione once they had reunited, but the words vanished despite his relief. He hoped once they were alone he'd be able to, but wasn't sure he would. She was his child, why was it so hard to apologize to her? To tell her he was wrong? She no longer clung to his words like she once did, but there were moments he knew she craved them. A few patient words of understanding when she was hurt or wrong, an apology if he was, reassurance when she doubted herself, his approval or an admission of pride when she'd done something worthy of it. Now that he thought of it, had he ever once told her he was proud of her?

_You're safe now, _he thought looking at her. _There'll be plenty of time._

"Y-you okay, Dad?" Hermione said in a tiny voice.

"Just relieved to have you back."

The lot of them entered the office to find Dumbledore and McGonagalll comforting a middle-aged couple, a stout woman with curly red hair and a tall gangly man with horn-rimmed glasses and balding red hair. Both turned to face the door upon opening, teary-eyed and their freckled faces drained, but he recognized the relief that washed over them when they saw their two youngest children and well.

"Ginny!" a stout red-hair woman shouted throwing her arms around the petite girl. She then reached an arm around the Weasley boy's shoulders, dragging him into the embrace. "Oh, Ron! Both of you!"

He watched the Weasley reunion with a new understanding of how he _might _have overwhelmed Hermione when he first saw she was well. Mr. Weasley chided the girl whilst fussing over her, ensuring everything was alright.

"And you went to save her!" Mr. Weasley squeezed his son's shoulder. "You could have been killed! That was so stupid!"

"I know, Dad," he said. "But I couldn't let-"

"And so brave!" Mr. Weasley pulled him into a hug. "I'm so proud of you!"

Mrs. Weasley touched the boy's cheek with an arm still around her daughter. "But don't do it again!" she then turned her attentions to Potter, throwing her arms around him as if he too were a lost son. "And you, Harry! You saved our daughter! We could never thank you enough!"

If he were ever capable of feeling pity for the Weasley boy, that was the moment. Potter received praise for bringing the girls back safely while their son as chastised. He understood it, it was easier to be grateful when they weren't at risk of losing someone precious to them. It didn't matter that Weasley never saw the inside of the chamber or faced the creature, he had every intention to, and the Weasleys might have lost a son and a daughter.

"And I see you've fallen on your own sword, Gilderoy," Dumbledore sighed at the man standing next to Severus.

"Sword?" Lockhart knit his brows in confusion. "I don't have-the little boy covered in blood does though!"

"It's an expression, you insufferable idiot," Severus groaned. "I can't believe I let my child anywhere near you."

"I helped save your child!" Lockhart declared.

"No, you didn't," everyone (save Mr. and Mrs. Weasley) grumbled.

"Fell on his own sword..." Hermione chewed on a nail, eyes fixed on the ground. "Professor, does that mean-you _knew?"_

Dumbledore peered at her over his half-moon glasses at Hermione with a familiar knowing smirk and twinkle in his blue eyes. "We'll blame the _colourful_ article you and Mr. O'Malley put together in September, and leave it at that."

Severus doubted that, and Hermione's narrowed eyes and lip biting suggested she did as well.

Dumbledore quickly turned his attention to the four Weasleys and McGonagall.

"Minevra," he said. "Could you take Gilderoy and the Weasleys to the hospital wing to be examined, please? I think I'd like to speak to these three alone."

"Of course, Albus," she nodded casting her gaze to the blood covered children. "Molly, Arthur, take your children and follow me. Come along, Gilderoy."

Once the four of them were left alone, Dumbledore lifted the bloodied sword from the desk and made eye contact with Potter. Severus wondered why he and Hermione were called behind. Whatever he had to impart to Potter had nothing to do with either of them, and the wavering girl at his side could have used the medical attention. Something he clearly should have thought of when following the damn bird.

"Do you know what-or rather whose- sword this is, Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Potter shook his head, eyes glued to the goblin made blade.

"I'm sure Hermione does," the old man continued looking at his shrinking daughter.

Hermione stopped chewing her finger nail for a moment. A substitute for not being able to dig into her opposite hand it seemed. "Erm, sword of Godric Gryffindor, sir."

Dumbledore smiled and placed a hand on Potter's shoulder. "The Sword of Gryffindor. Legend as it, Harry, that only a true Gryffindor can call the sword to him during an act of true heroism. You wanted to save your friends and the sword came appeared to you."

Potter nodded cautiously.

"You earlier this year confided in me that you were conflicted about your nature. About where you belonged. The sword presented itself to you, Harry, you won't find much better evidence than that."

Severus felt that he and Hermione should not have been there. Even with the omission of details, it all felt deeply personal. What the hell was Dumbledore playing at?

"Yessir," Potter said.

Severus understood why Dumbledore wanted him there when he explained Riddle's self-loathing and the similarities Potter and Voldemort shared. Dumbledore intimated how Lily's sacrifice protected Potter, which was not easy to hear, but what Severus needed to hear from that was that some part of Voldemort was connected to Potter. He wasn't sure how yet, but he knew that would be important.

"I must confess," Dumbledore continued. "Though I'm disappointed you didn't see that I am on your side from the beginning-"

"P-Professor, I-" Potter stammered.

"It's quite alright, Harry," he smiled at the boy. "I know you were initially nervous about being labelled mad. And once Hermione figured out it was a basilisk and that's why you could hear it, I imagine you were in too deep. What matters is that you understand now that no one understands Voldemort, even sixteen-year-old Voldemort, the way I do. That and that I am loyal to you. But, yes! My confession was not one of loyalty or disappointment, but rather that I am impressed! You left no stone unturned, and you figured it out. The school is safe, and once again, it would seem we have you to thank."

_Inflate the boy's head, that'll help..._Severus thought still wondering why they were there.

"I-erm-" Potter cast his gaze at Hermione. "I had help."

"Ah, Hermione," he stroked his bead. "I don't know where to start. You found out the beast was using the pipes to get around, knew the answers to the opening lied with Myrtle, found out it was a basilisk, and even that Ginny Weasley was being manipulated by the diary. That was very clever and I am thoroughly disappointed."

_What?!_ he thought. "Headmaster, my daughter's been through-"

"Yes, she's been through quite a bit, I agree," he nodded. "But she still failed to come forward at every turn. I expected you to know better, Hermione."

"Yessir," Hermione nodded, still biting her nails.

"But, sir-" Potter started.

"Harry, you grew up in an environment where you couldn't trust anyone," Dumbledore sighed. "But Hermione grew up with us, she should have known to come to us. Things were looking quite dire. The board of governors were looking to remove Hagrid because of the incident fifty years ago, and some were even calling for my removal. You could have at least told Harry about your suspicions. I imagine you know more could have been hurt?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

_What the hell are you doing, Dumbledore? _Severus placed his hand on Hermione's head. "Hermione's a child, headmaster. And is a victim here, I see no reason to hold her responsible for her own abduction. Or anything else that's happened since the opening."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I'm not holding her accountable for anything, Severus. But like father like daughter, Hermione sought to do everything herself. Unlike you, she put herself in grave danger."

"With all due respect, sir," Hermione bowed her head. "I couldn't come forward about Ginny until I knew for certain. I couldn't throw her to the wolves without evidence. What if I was wrong? I'd have ruined her life and people would still be in danger."

Dumbledore smiled and sighed. "Do you think we would expel Ginny Weasley without due process?"

"Erm," she shifted uncomfortably. "I-erm-Hagrid was expelled without an appeal. No one even bothered to bring up agromantulas can't petrify nor did they remember that Slytherin was arachnophobic. They simply saw a scapegoat! I-I-" she sighed. "I suppose that was stupid, wasn't it?"

"No, Hermione," Dumbledore's easy smiled remained. "Cynical to assume the worst of us, and it would seem, of your friends. But not stupid. You did well, but you do need to consider how your secrecy affected people. In fact, did it occur to either of you that if you had shared information you might have been working with all the pieces?"

Hermione stared at the floor in silent shame.

It hadn't occurred to Severus either. Not until she was abducted. He soothed her hair wondering just how deep this particular shame spiral would go. He knew his daughter well, and that meant he knew she was already reviewing every decision she'd made, and wondering which of the petrification victims rested on her shoulders. She did that long before Dumbledore illustrated his points.

"My point," Dumbledore sighed. "Is that you had put together many parts of the puzzle early on. In the future, I would advise you to at least trust your friends with the information. Harry and Ron couldn't, to use your words, ruin Ginny's life."

"Professor," Potter spoke. "Erm-"

"Don't, Harry," Hermione said in a small voice.

Potter ignored her. "She did tell us about Ginny back in December. I mean, at the time she thought she knew something, not was directly involved. Then last month after break, Hermione told us she thought the diary of Ginny's. We didn't believe her, sir."

"Very noble of you to admit that, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "Many in your position might have simply taken the due credit for defeating the beast and rescuing the girls. Your soon-to-be-former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, for instance. I'm glad the fame didn't go to your head. You're a good person, Harry. The ability to admit to one's short-comings and _learn _from them is the mark of a good man. Though it is my sincerest hope that the two of you not only begin to trust me, but to trust each other. To listen to each other. Now, I have to let Lucious Malfoy in before he conspires to have myself and Hagrid removed anyway. Severus, you and Hermione are excused. I'm sorry to have kept you both so long."

Dumbledore went to call Malfoy in, and Severus made use of the few seconds dropping to a whisper in French in Hermione's ear. "So, when he said your were 'right about a lot of things' is that what he meant?"

"Pas d'importante," Hermione shrugged.

"Hermione," Severus began moving a bloody lock of hair from her face. "I-"

"What is the meaning of this Dumbledore?" Malfoy roared. "You call me in here just to keep me waiting and-Oh, Snape, I'm certain you can talk some sense into the man!"

Lucious Malfoy looked every bit as much the prat prefect who greeted him on his first day of school. His posture, erect and pale pointed face haughty, while his immaculate white-blond hair and robes 'subtly' spoke to his status and wealth. Draco inherited more than the insufferable prat's appearance. He looked at them with only a little more respected than he awarded the tiny house-elf at his side.

Severus noted the house-elf's massive green eyes dart to Potter then to Hermione. The children regarded the house-elf with recognition, and he was left to wonder how Harry Potter and his daughter knew the Malfoy's house-elf. He seemed confused when he saw Hermione before something like recognition crossed his face.

"I hadn't any idea you were here, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said. "But as you can see, my child is injured. As a father, I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, yes," he nodded. "Though I doubt something like this would happen to Draco were I stationed so close. Even without it, to think of it. Isn't it funny that my son is safer than your daughter?"

"Indeed," he said between grit teeth. "I don't imagine much danger will come to the boy, when he has such knack for self-preservation. Now, if you'll excuse us, I'm certain you're incredibly busy. Come along, love." _Before _I _start picking fights with the Malfoys._

"Do you think he had anything to do with the diary or chamber?" Hermione pondered when he was out of earshot. "It seems odd-"

"It doesn't matter," he sighed cupping her face. "He'd never face any consequences for it. What does matter is that it's over and that you're safe. I love you."

Hermione gently placed her good hand on his and smiled at him. "I love you too, Dad."

* * *

"I wish Dumbledore hadn't sent us away!" Hermione sighed. "I would have _loved _to see Dobby go free. Do you think he'll be alright?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled looking out the window. "I reckon he'll be alright. Anywhere is better than with the Malfoys."

"That couldn't be more true," Hermione agreed. "If I never see that smug, pointed face again, it'll be far too soon!" she turned to the petrified boy in the bed opposite her. "Dad says it'll be another week or so and we can revive the petrified patients. I wonder if they'll remember spending over half a year in hospital."

"You know, Hermione," Ron mused. "I think you've spent more time in the hospital this year than out of it."

"And I can't wait to be out of here," Hermione said. "It's-I know this is insensitive, but it's like Medusa's garden."

Between Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and Lockhart, the hospital had more lively patients than it had been used to. Though Harry and Ginny were discharged the previous day, apparently the twenty-four hours between her fall and recovery made her injuries more complicated to treat. She'd be out the next day, and everyone was in to see her.

"Creepy," Luna agreed.

Harry and Ginny shared a snigger at this. Ron simply looked confused.

"That was a straight-up mythology reference, Ron," Hermione said. "You didn't even need to read the _Son of Hermes _books for that one."

"Listen, you-" Ron started.

"Be nice, Ron," Ginny groaned. "She helped save me."

_She helped save me..._ Hermione doubted that. What was worse, Hermione couldn't hear Ginny's laugh, see her face without hearing and seeing Riddle. It wasn't fair, Ginny was as much a victim as Hermione, if not more. Ginny was perfectly innocent, and Hermione knew it. Harry was almost killed by Riddle in Ginny's body too, and like always, he was fine. Harry and Ginny both had it worse, so why did Hermione struggle with this? What was _wrong _with her? She did mean everything she said to her, she did care, so why did it change once the adrenaline and shock wore off? _Coward, you've failed her in more ways than one._

"I-erm-" Hermione forced herself to look at Ginny, digging her nails into her hands. "Ginny, I don't think I did anything by confronting you about the diary. I just got us both in danger. I don't think I saved anyone."

"And on that cheery note," Fred sighed looking at his brothers. "Harry, George and I should get going. Quidditch match. I'm glad you're both okay."

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "We'll be back after the match."

Percy nodded, adjusting his spectacles. "Yes, I should be there to watch the match, too. Coming, Penny?"

Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw in sixth year with curly black hair and grey eyes and Percy's girlfriend, gently shook her head before kissing his cheek. "Sorry, Perce. I've got to go to the library. I'll meet you after the match."

Hermione watched as each of them left, laughing and in good spirits. It brought a smile to her face as she buried the twinge of jealousy. If they could move on and be happy before Hermione could, that was fine. She was happy for them. She could join their ranks eventually.

"Aren't you going with them?" Hermione asked.

"No," Luna smiled taking her hand. "I figured I'd stay here. You look like you could use the company."

Hermione bit her lip and stared at her olive hand clasped in Luna's pale one. "I-I don't want you to-erm- feel like you have to. Go have fun."

Luna smiled leaning her head on her shoulder. "I know I don't have to, Hermione. I _want _to."

"Oh, erm," Hermione's cheeks burned. "I won't be much fun."

"I think you're way too hard on yourself." Luna let go of her hand in favour of throwing both arms around her shoulders.

"L-Luna!"

* * *

"Discharged tomorrow, eh?" her father rested a hand on Hermione's head. "I imagine you're quite happy about that."

"Yes!" Hermione nodded. "Ron pointed out I've spent more time this year in hospital than class. I think he was right."

"Oh, I think hell just froze over," he mused.

Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Ron's right _sometimes, _Dad."

"Yes," he said. "I suppose even the great Ronald Weasley is right from time to time."

Hermione stifled a giggle with her hand before stopping herself. "I should _not _be laughing at that."

He folded his arms over his chest and sighed. "Hermione, even if I don't 'see everything' and he's only been cruel in 'a handful of high stress situations', I think you've earned the right to laugh at that boy's expense...Even if he did open the door."

Hermione bit her lip and her eyes drifted to a far corner of wing, resting her chin on her knees. "Erm-"

"What is it, love?"

"Harry opened it from our end," she admitted. "We-we-erm-just kind of decided not to tell him. Please don't tell him."

"Mess with a teenaged boy's fragile ego, me?" he faked offence. "No, I'll leave that to you when he finally pushes you past 'just disappointed."

"Okay," she smirked. "If I grow up to be cruel, I'm pointing to this conversation as the reason why."

"How shall I ever live with the guilt?" he said dryly.

"I hear avoidance works wonders," Hermione nodded.

"Do you now?" he mussed her hair. "I shall have to try it."

The two shared a quiet laughter and Hermione felt for the first time in a very long time that things were finally normal between them again. She knew she had some hard questions to ask, but she let the moment sit between them. Even if she had a million things to worry about, to feel guilty about, she could relish in the comforting hand on her head and the warmth they shared.

Her father's smile weakened and his black eyes lost their amused glimmer, but not their warmth. He sat next to her, his hand still on the top of her head. The mood changed and Hermione wondered if she'd said or done anything wrong. Though whatever it was, he wasn't upset with her, even if she picked up on a hint of sadness or guilt in his sallow face.

"Are you okay, Dad?" she asked.

"Hermione, love," he moved a lock of hair from her face. "What you did was incredibly reckless, but you did it trying to help people. I can't say I approve, but I am-"

He was cut off by a sudden singing of a particularly offensive limerick that sent Gilderoy Lockhart from the other end of the hospital wing to slam the card shut and turn his gaze to them. His face flushed a bright pink, but he instead beamed at Hermione and her father before giving a forced chuckle: "Just another poor soul plagued with jealousy. No need for sympathies! For every one like that I have ten from admirers!"

_O'Malley, _Hermione thought rolling her eyes. _The man's lost his memory, hardly appropriate!_

"How is that man still so vain without his memories?" her father groaned. "It's as if it's ingrained in his very essence."

"It might be," Hermione mused, as guilt and annoyance warred within her. Annoyance won. _"Someone's_ parent probably gave him too much praise growing up."

"Indeed," he agreed, hesitating a moment while clenching his jaw.

_What are you mulling over, Dad? _she wondered but waited.

"And remind me again why I didn't expel O'Malley?" he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You don't _know _it was O'Malley," Hermione shifted uneasily.

"He was responsible back in October, and he's responsible now," he shook his head. "Though I suppose that doesn't matter right now, does it?"

Hermione bit her lip and shifted her eyes. She didn't want to ask any difficult questions, but she was curious, and her father, despite Lockhart's interruption, was in a good mood. And it wasn't a big question that would ruin everything. _No, I'll just leave it. He's happy, and things are good._

"Ask whatever you're thinking about asking, love," he placed his hand back on the top of her head. "You know, since you were little you'd bite your lip and your eyes would drift to a far corner whenever you were contemplative."

"That easy to read, eh?" Hermione nervously laughed.

"It certainly makes my life easier," he said. "Now, what is it?"

"Erm," she sighed. "Just well we're on the topic of O'Malley, I need to know. What did you say to him?"

He stared at her for moment, knit his eyebrows in confusion while absently soothing her hair. "_That's _what you wanted to know?"

It was Hermione's turn to be confused and surprised. She tilted her head and blinked for a moment. "What did you think I was going to ask?"

"I suppose," he said. "That I imagined you would want answers on the diary, or what happened in the chamber. Or perhaps that you'd want to know why the headmaster was so harsh with you."

Hermione chewed her lip. She did want to know how the diary was possessed, the specifics of how it was cast and if there were more diaries out there, but she also expected to find the answers in a book. She knew her father's speciality was Dark Arts, but she didn't expect him to know, or to tell her if he did. And as far as Dumbledore, she knew why.

"It's true I'm curious about the diary, but I'm not exactly sure how much more I want to know right now," she sighed. "And as far as Professor Dumbledore goes. I can't expect the same level of leniency as Harry, can I? Life's not fair, that's just the way it-why are you looking at me like that?"

Her father stared at her with a pitying gaze, his mouth twisted as he swallowed. Why was it so damn hard to interpret his expressions? It seemed as if a realization came upon him, but his eyes, something about them seemed so sad.

"Just happy you're alright," he sighed, drawing her into his lap.

A silence passed between them. Part of Hermione wanted to remind him that she was far too old to be sitting in her father's lap at twelve, but a greater part of her relished the feeling of safety and warmth. It wasn't just security, she felt cared for, _wanted_. Hermione knew her father cared, but it was rare she felt wanted, by him or anyone else. She leaned her head against his chest.

"Now, I believe you were asking about O'Malley?" he asked after a while. "I told him I found it _unsettling _that a fifteen-year-old boy had a pet name for my twelve-year-old daughter. Of all the positions I'm willing to re-evaluate, that is not one of them."

"And here I thought you'd be happy I made other friends?" Hermione tried for a jovial tone. "And a Slytherin, no less! But you have nothing to worry about. It's ironic, apparently I'm cynical? Me? Can you believe it?"

He gave a small chuckle and pat her on the head. "Shockingly, I can."

"Can't imagine where I got that from," she said.

"Haven't the slightest."

* * *

Months passed without further event. March saw the revival of the petrified students, each slowly integrating back into their normal lives and the dark veil that shrouded the corridors lifted. The happy mood improved when Dumbledore announced the cancellation of exams. Students buzzed about the corridors and grounds, enjoying the rare Scottish sunshine.

June drew to a close and Hermione found her way to the boarding carriages to say her farewells. Harry, Ron, Neville, and Ginny waited for the carriages to arrive discussing their summer plans.

"We'll probably just stick around the burrow," Ron sighed. "But it'll be nice to relax for once."

Neville smiled and shrugged. "What about you, Harry?"

"I reckon I'll just try not to go mad with the Dursleys," he shrugged before noticing Hermione. "Going back to Japan, Hermione?"

"Hi," she waved. "I just wanted to see you lot off. It's been a hell of a year, eh?"

Ginny made eyecontact with Hermione and nodded with a weak smile. The two girls shared a knowing glance before sighing and looking away. No one else knew about Hermione breaking through to Ginny, and she imagined Ginny was still coming to terms with the things Riddle made her do. Ginny remembered trying to fight off Riddle in the chamber, and giving up when she thought all was lost. If Hermione could get over herself she could try to commiserate with Ginny on some level.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "How do you reckon we almost die next year?"

"One of Hagrid's pets, probably," Ron scoffed.

"Well," Hermione mused. "So, far it's been a dark wizard, magical creature, my love of patterns dictates another dark wizard." _Or a normal year, one normal year...Why are you fine?_

"Or a combination of the two!" a voice piped up behind her. "I'll put a sickle on werewolves. Hi, Hermione!"

Hermione turned to see Luna beaming at the five of them, with her wand tucked behind her ear, and clutching a copy of the Quibbler to her chest. Ron and Harry shifted uncomfortably, before exchanging a glance Hermione was all too familiar with. Ginny and Neville stared at the ground, perhaps embarrassed for her.

"Werewolves, eh?" Ron scoffed. "I'll take you up on it."

"It's a deal then!" she sang. "I've got to go!" she threw her arms around Hermione.

"L-Luna!" Hermione gasped, taken aback before returning the hug. "I'll write you."

"I'll write loads!" she declared before waving again. "I'll see you lot in the fall!"

"Think your boyfriend in Japan will be jealous?" Ron teased.

"For the last time, Ron," Hermione sighed. "Hiro's _not _my boyfriend. And leave her be. She's really nice!"

"Will you two give it a rest?" Harry grumbled. "Mahoukatoro's the school's name, right? I'll write you."

"Me too!" Ron nodded. "Anyway-erm-safe travels!" And he disappeared on to the carriage.

"Erm," Ginny rubbed her arms and looked downward. "Thanks, Hermione. For-erm-everything. I'll write."

Ginny vanished with her brother and Hermione was left to wonder if she was referring to the chamber, and if she was, was she being sarcastic? She wasn't sure if she'd _actually _helped Ginny by breaking through to her, and now she had memories she wouldn't otherwise.

"What was that about?" Harry asked.

"I wish I knew," Hermione shrugged. "You'll stay safe, won't you?"

"You know me," Harry rolled his eyes. "I always do!"

The two shared an awkward laugh and an even more awkward embrace before Harry boarded the carriage. Hermione watched the lot of them disappear over the crisp blue horizon before heading back to the castle.

"Hermione?" a voice called from behind her.

"Gah!" Hermione leapt and spun around to face her father.

"Some things never change," he sighed.

"Well," she gave an awkward laugh. "Some things do."

"Of that," he smiled placing a hand on her head. "I am all too aware."


	35. MahouKatoro Interlude 2 Part One

"And you _promise_ to write me daily, yes?" Severus asked brushing Hermione's hair from her face.

"Yes, Dad," Hermione sighed. "I promise to write you daily."

Severus regarded his twelve-year-old daughter with apprehension. Hermione stood before him, looking every bit the fragile, vulnerable child he thought she was. Hermione's brown almond shaped eyes dominated her tiny olive face, reminding him a bit of a frightened fawn. He often mentally compared them to that of a doe or a doll, the latter comparison aided by her tiny stature, long eyelashes, and waist-length bushy brown hair that she so often loved to hide behind.

The two of them stood in their living quarters joined by a carved stone fox sitting conspicuously on their table. When the time came, Hermione would pick up the figurine and appear at the Petrel landing, in Japan... It was supposed to be good for her, but it was so far away.

This wasn't Hermione's first trip to Japan, and it wouldn't be her last. However, he was even more apprehensive to see her leave Britain than the first time. Back in February the girl had been abducted and he feared he'd lost her. The image of her bleeding out at the foot of a staircase, or of her lying dead and forgotten in a deep underground chamber still haunted his dreams. He knew things could have been much, much worse. Severus was lucky to have his child back, and he wasn't exactly ready to see her off again, even if it was only thirty days.

"So much for never letting you out of my sight again," he set his hand on her head. _How do other parents agree to do this for ten months?_

Hermione tilted her head and offered a sympathetic smile. "You always knew you couldn't keep that promise, Dad."

"I know, love," he sighed. "I just don't want anything else to happen to you."

"Everything is going to be fine, Dad," Hermione tried to assure him.

Even if they had similar definitions of the word fine, which Severus was beginning to suspect they didn't, he would have trouble believing her. She had been playing at fine since she had been back, as if he couldn't see the clear exhaustion, the sudden disappearances and reappearances with red-rimmed eyes, and the increase in her nervous behaviours such as digging her nails into her own hands, checking things thrice, and dividing her food into thirds-no that last one started before.

He could sense the guilt weighing on her like the cosmic heavens on Atlas's shoulders. Hermione saw it as her purpose to fix everything, to make herself 'of use' to people in anyway she could. Which meant that if she could find away to blame herself for harm done to others, she would without hesitation. Everyone who knew Hermione knew this about her, which is why he was currently infuriated by the only man he respected.

* * *

"What the _hell_ was that about?!" Severus demanded marching into Dumbledore's office.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, Severus," Dumbledore sighed.

"You know precisely what I'm talking about!" he spat. "The way you spoke to Hermione was completely unacceptable!"

"I see," Dumbledore nodded, rising from his chair. "Do you think the way I spoke to the girl was inappropriate?"

"Watching a grown man exploit my twelve-year-old daughter's emotional weak points while she bit her nail until she bled wasn't exactly the highlight of my fucking year!" he seethed. "I thought you've 'grown fond of the girl'?"

"And I have," Dumbledore said. "Hermione's an empathetic, sweet and clever girl, if at times cynical and vindictive. My goal was not to hurt her."

"Vindictive?" he scoffed. "The girl feels guilty the instant something cruel leaves her mouth, even if it's deserved. But enlighten me."

"Hermione was simply collateral damage."

"Oh? My baby was simply_ collateral damage?_" he said scathingly. "Well, I feel _so_ much better now!"

"It was a test," Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles with a rather grim expression. "I wanted to do a few things, Severus, one was to communicate my points, yes, but I also needed Harry to see that he will often receive preferential treatment over his peers. And I wanted to see how he reacted to it. Not only was he uncomfortable with the difference, he stood up for Hermione. Even admitted to a mistake I had no way of knowing about. I loathed to do it, especially after such a harrowing experience, but I daresay, Harry will be ready when the time comes."

"Ready for what?" he asked.

"In due time, Severus," Dumbledore sighed.

"Regardless," he shook is head. "Hermione is as much a child as Potter is! _And you__ DO NOT get to toy with my little girl's mental health for the edification of that boy!_"

"It wasn't just for Harry's edification, Severus," he said, his blue eyes once again with that damned knowing twinkle.

"Do you honestly believe speaking to her like that will do her _any _good?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes and frowned. "I don't think my motives matter to you right now, Severus. And though it was never my primary intention, I must confess I half-hoped seeing Harry defend her would earn the boy some sympathy from you."

"You thought praising the boy than proceeding to tear Hermione apart for the same things would gain my _sympathy_?" he scoffed.

"Harry is as much a child as Hermione is, Severus. He has no control over how others treat him," Dumbledore's face fell and he sighed. "How is she?"

_How is she?_ Dumbledore tore into her for the sake of a boy that he frankly thought took her for granted and he had the audacity to ask how she was? How did he think she was? He thought back to dropping her off at the hospital and how she had covered her whole body with blankets when she thought she was left alone, shaking with muffled sobs. Hermione had just survived several close calls, was injured and in pain, Dumbledore couldn't be held entirely responsible for her emotional state, but he did intentionally make it worse, and for what? And now he wanted to know how she was?_  
_

"IN TEARS AND CONVINCED THIS IS ALL HER FAULT!" he snapped. "But it was all to accommodate Harry fucking Potter learning the value of modesty, so I'm certain it was worth it!"

* * *

Severus had been openly critical of Dumbledore in the past, but that night was the first and only time he'd been _that_ intentionally hostile since joining his side. Some part of him still feared the man, he was a great wizard. And Despite his feelings toward him being muddied, he still greatly respected Dumbledore. Though he didn't think he could ever forgive him for his treatment of Hermione that night, and his flimsy motives made it worse. The man had no right to treat her so horribly. Hermione respected him, looked up to him and he took advantage of that to exploit her emotional weaknesses. Who did that? How-

_No, that it's different...I just want what's best for her..._

"Dad?" Hermione asked in a small voice, blinking at him. "Are you okay?"

Severus hugged her to him and pat her head. The night after his confrontation with Dumbledore, he'd visited Hermione in hospital. He remembered how she'd looked at him with that same concerned and confused expression after casually using his own words to explain why she thought Dumbledore had treated her differently. _Can't expect the same level of leniency...life's not fair...that's the way it is. _Severus wanted to prepare his daughter for unfair treatment, not teach her to _accept _it.

Damn, that girl could always tell when he was lost in thought. "Just wondering how you will take to the portkey and the flight via storm petrel."

Hermione's olive skin flushed pink and she looked away. Her predisposition of motion sickness and fear of heights made her transport to Japan more harrowing than her time there. He _hated _that he couldn't drop her off this time around. Last year Severus dropped Hermione off at the headmaster's daughter-in-law's apartment, because Minako Yamato wanted to meet her son's little quill-mate. This time around she was to portkey to a landing with the rest of the cultural enrichment students.

"Why did I agree to this again?" he sighed.

"I'll write every night," Hermione promised. "I remember all those new spells you taught me, I won't go anywhere alone, and I'll report odd behaviour rather than investigating it. Dad, everything is going to be fine."

"If you are targeted you are to do what?" he asked lifting her face.

"Shield, disarm, immobilize, blind, deafen, run and scream," she recited mechanically. This wasn't the first, or second, or even twelfth time he made her do this. "If I'm unsure whether they mean to harm me, disarm and impede their movements and go hide."

"Okay," he nodded, not the least bit relieved. "That's perhaps the best we can do. Just be careful over there, yes?"

Hermione gave a weak smile. "I will, you don't have to worry. Did I mention that everything is going to be-"

"Fine?" he raised an eyebrow. "It may have come up. I _want_ to believe it, Hermione."

"Nothing happened last year, nothing will happen this year," she sighed. "And you know me, I always land on my feet."

"The time you spent in the hospital last year would suggest otherwise," he said. "And do you _really _want to be adopting _that _phrase?"

Hermione shrugged and offered a crooked smile. "They're not going to stop. I might as well have fun with it, besides, I did always like cats."

Since before Hermione started her first year, rumours abound about her origins. Two popular ones included her being found in the rubbish of a Chinese take-away, with a racist addition of cat skeletons for good measure, the second was a preposterous rumour that she was a transfigured kitten of the caretaker's , Filch, aged and bitter cat, Mrs Norris. The poor girl was compared to a kitten in front of her classmates on her first day, in the environment of those rumours. She then spent a month and a half in hospital because one of the older girls attempted and failed to transfigure her into a cat.

"Have fun with your torment?" he mussed her hair. "How did I manage to raise such a foolish child?"

"It's probably just brain damage," Hermione's jovial tone failed her.

"Not funny," he scowled. "You were _seriously _injured, Hermione. I thought you-" he sighed realising how little time they had. "You will write me daily, no excuses. Behave yourself, and stay out of trouble, yes?"

"Yessir," Hermione nodded.

"Right," he nodded, drawing her into another hug. "I'll talk to you tonight. Stay safe."

"You too," Hermione rose on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek. "Love you, Dad."

"I love you too," he ran a hand over the top of her head. "Goodbye."

"_Sayonara!" _she smiled before taking the stone fox in her hands.

Without further ceremony, Hermione vanished from his sight, appearing _somewhere _in southern Japan. Had Severus done enough to prepare her? Would something happen to her? He mentally ran through the precautions he instructed knowing they wouldn't have helped back in February and that they wouldn't help if she were taken by surprise again. He just had to trust that she would be okay...he didn't like it.

* * *

Stars twinkled in across the deep blue sky overhead and somewhere in the distance waves beat against the cliff they stood on. The warm ocean breeze blew over them as the salt air filled Hermione's lungs. She emerged from the tree-line once she regained her barrings, closed her eyes and heard the breeze cut through the trees behind her. The scent of many tropical plants she had nearly forgotten wafted through the air.

Hermione opened her eyes to see a cluster of gaijin kids near the edge of the cliff. She knew all of them in passing, but she immediately recognized a dark-skinned boy around a year older than her laughing with a bubbly petite blond girl of sixteen.

"Sam! Anya!" she called running to them.

"Hermione!" Anya hugged Hermione.

"So in Canada," Sam chuckled. "We have this German stereotype that they are efficient and distant. I'm thinking I'll have to alert the masses we were wrong."

"I might be unique, or Bremerhaven might just be filled with petite blond huggers!" Anya smiled. "A good German girl tells no secrets!"

"I will find out!" Sam teased. "We Canadians have our ways."

"Oh?" Anya smirked. "Torturing us with your watered down beer?"

"Watered down beer? I'm not American, Anya!" Sam's brown eyes widened as he gasped. "I was planning on explaining in vivid detail my hockey team's history and make excuses on why they haven't won the Stanley cup in decades."

"Oh," Hermione moaned. "I don't care what country or sport you're talking about, that _is _torture!"

The three burst into laughter over their mutual hatred of sports and made fun of their own perspective countries of origins. Hermione basked in the moment, she was eager to reunite with Hiro, Saiyaka and Kaori, but she still felt lighter, happier. Even if Sam and Anya wrote her infrequently after summer passed, she still felt so close.

A cry pierced through the chatter and laughter. Hermione looked overhead to find three giant silver birds with massive wing spans prepared for landing. Hermione noted no one else gaped at the giant storm petrels, but she, even after everything, she _hated _heights, and didn't trust herself not to fall into the ocean churning far below them.

The students filed themselves three-to-a-petrel, organized by year. Hermione rode with Sam and Anya, who yelled quips to each over the roaring winds and ocean. Hermione pretended to laugh here or there, but focused on maintaining composure. Relief came to her in the form of an opalescent teired castle peaking from the foliage atop a green mountain.

The petrels landed on a clear path surrounded by thick forest, the students dismounted and walked the winding cobbles bathed in golden light from lamps on either side. They passed under the great red Torii and up the stone stairs into the castle proper. They were all greeted by colourful murals painted on rice paper depicting four season, sakura for spring, an bamboo forest for summer, and the gigantic ocean waves crashing against a cliffside for summer. Other scenes of the island could be spied elsewhere. An ornate staircase guided them up to the second floor, where Anya and Hermione separated from the other six to head to the girls' dormitory.

* * *

"Konbenwa, Hermi-chan!" Saiyaka greeted her.

The timid girl bowed her head, but smiled brightly after adjusting her spectacles. Still dressed in her pink robes, and her waist-length, dark brown hair still in twin braids, Hermione imagined Saiyaka was still working doing homework when she came to their dorm.

Unlike in Hogwarts where the students were divided into houses and slept in group rooms according to gender and age, Mahoukatoro had students paired with one other student of their year and gender. Some students could volunteer or otherwise be assigned July-students, they lived alone for the rest of the year. Hermione found herself for the first time wondering where people like Skylar fit into the living arrangements...was it bad she never thought of that before?

She put it from her mind for now, glad to meet her friend for the first time in a year.

"Konbenwa, Saiya-chan!" she beamed. "How've you been?"

Saiyaka abandoned the work on her desk and sat on her futon next to her fat grey cat, Momo, brushing her long fringe out of her face revealing large brown eyes behind her round specs, and smiled. "Things have been great here. Hiro, Miyuki, Toshio, Kaori and I hang out all the time now. But, erm, I guess you knew that. I missed you."

Hermione set her bag on her own futon. "I missed you too, Saiya-chan."

"You never talk about yourself in your letters," Saiyaka leaned in. "How was your year? Tell me _everything!"_

Hermione mused for a bit. What to tell? She trusted Saiyaka now, but- Hermione was still working it out herself. And if she were honest, she was ashamed that she had to be rescued. She brushed it off for a titbit she already told Hiro.

"Well, I roughly three months looking like Aiko from _Koneko Mahou Shojou! _So, that was fun," she shrugged. "My friend Luna _still _scratches me behind the ear."

"What?" Saiyaka laughed. "Oh, Hermione, you're in much better humour about that than I would be-wait Luna, I thought all your friends back home were boys?"

"Luna started last year. She's very nice."

Saiyaka nodded, her dark olive skin turning pink. "Did you tell Hiro yet? He might like you even more if you do!" she laughed. "I think Aiko was his first crush!"

Hermione felt her own face flush, and knew it was probably a furious pink as well. She ran a hand through her bushy hair and waved it in front of her face. "Hiro wouldn't like this. I don't think anyone does."

Saiyaka averted her gaze and scratched Momo behind her ears. "You'd, erm, be surprised."

_Did Hiro say anything to you? _Hermione thought averting her own gaze and swallowing. Hiro noticing her that way was the fantasy since they'd met. She suddenly felt very selfish thinking about that when they were seeing each other for the first time in ages. She inhaled and collected herself.

"If you're done teasing me about my hopeless crush," Hermione leaned in with a smirk. "What about you? Any girls I get to torment you about?"

"Me? I'm only thirteen!" Saiyaka let out a nervous laugh and adjusted her glasses.

_I'm technically still twelve, and you had a crush before...I must've hit a sore_ _spot_, Hermione thought. "Saiyaka, sorry! I-I d-didn't mean to offend you. I'm fine to drop it if you want to talk about something else."

Saiyaka adjusted her glasses again and nervously smiled. "We're not _supposed _to tell our July students, teachers want it to be a surprise, but we'll all be going off island this month for a weekend to a bamboo forest so we can see them flower! It only happens once every sixty years!"

"I've read about bamboo blossoms!" Hermione squeed. "I can't believe we'll get to _see _them!"

The girls spent the rest of the night talking about the magical properties of bamboo blossoms, speculating on how they'd look in person and the excitement of choosing their own groups to camp out with. The whole thing seemed surreal, and Hermione simply couldn't wait for that weekend. Part of her was excited for the observation and rituals around the flowering, and part an even bigger part of her was excited for the minimal adult intervention promised during the trip. After _everything, _Hermione felt that this was going to be a very good July.


	36. Mahoukatoro 2 Part Two

Sunlight filtered through the window, casting a golden light onto the room. Hermione stirred, stretching and feeling the jet-lag weigh her limbs. Perhaps she shouldn't have stayed up to the small hours of the morning talking with Saiyaka, but it had been a year since they saw each other last and only letters exchanged between them. She was thrilled to be back in Japan after so long.

"I think we have Yokai Studies first," Saiyaka yawned lifting herself from her own futon. "Let's get some breakfast and matcha. Kaname-Sensei won't be happy if we fall asleep during his class."

Kaname was the last teacher any of the students, international or otherwise would want to displease. He was smart, and had a great understanding of his subject matter, which Hermione respected, but she would never use the word kind to describe him. Though, both Saiyaka and Hermione were the last to fall asleep in class if they could help it. Saiyaka was the top of her year and freaked out if she did anything less than perfect, and Hermione had been advanced two years at her school in Britain mid-year and still managed to be top student.

"Yare yare!" Saiyaka groaned trying to undo the matted braid on her shoulder.

"Here," Hermione offered taking the hairbrush. "Your hair is gorgeous, I'm so jealous!"

Saiyaka's dark brown hair fell to her hips in soft waves, and once she freed the ribbon from the one stubborn braid, it was easy to brush out and incredibly soft to the touch. Hermione arranged the baby-fine hair into Saiyaka's typical twin braids, tying each off with a yellow ribbon.

Hermione's hair was a medium brown and fell around her in frizzy curls to her waist. The bushy mass added to both her height and width like a bloody puffed out cat, and it was impossible to care for, and often brushing it somehow managed to make it worse. Though the length did stop it from going too far away from her head and she did like that she could hide nearly her whole torso behind the thick mass.

Saiyaka adjusted her round glasses and smiled at her "You'd be the only one. Thanks for the help."

"Ohayo, Saiya-chan, Hermi-chan!" a sweet voice called in the girls' common room.

Hermione turned to see the owner of the voice and something she had suspected about herself was confirmed.

Kaori towered over Hermione and stood with a confidence people like her and Saiyaka could only dream of. The fifteen-year-old girl had silky black hair that fell past her waist and was pulled out of her pale, heart-shaped face in two small twin tails. She smiled exposing the one 'flaw' she had, a pronounced canine she shared with her brother Hiro. She had beautiful dark brown eyes that sat on high cheek bones like large almonds. When Hermione first saw Kaori, she didn't know if she was jealous of Kaori or if she fancied her. Now she knew…

"S-senpai! Ohayo!" Hermione bowed.

"Ohayo, girls!" Anya skipped up to them and stood on tip-toe to kiss Kaori's cheek. "We ready for breakfast?"

"Wait up!" a voice called from the stairs.

"Miyuk-chan!" they all called.

Miyuki flew down the stairs, looking otherwise put together, her black fringe pinned out of her face with a pastel barrette, the rest of it falling perfectly straight passed her shoulders and wearing a 'plausible deniability' level of make-up on her already pretty face and her black eyes lit up at the site of Hermione and Anya.

"Took you long enough," Kaori smirked at her best friend.

"It takes time to be this cute," Miyuki stuck her tongue out.

There was a bout of laughter among the five girls as they slid on their white indoor shoes and walked to the dininghall.

"Hermi-chan!" Hiro waved her over when they entered.

"Hiro-kun!" Hermione rushed to his side, before awkwardly bowing. "Erm, ohayo!"

"Welcome back!" Hiro gave an equally awkward bow before sitting back down and leaving room for her. "How was your year?"

Hiro gave a crooked smile showing off a pronounced canine and Hermione felt her face flush. His face wasn't quite as round as she remembered, but he was just as beautiful. Hiro had almond shaped hazel eyes on high cheekbones that Hermione felt she could get lost in, untidy black hair that stuck up in all the right parts, pale olive skin, and had a build somewhere between stalky and skinny. When he stood to bow, she saw that he was nearly 20 centimetres taller than he was last summer, making him about a head-and-a-half taller than Hermione.

Wow, I have it bad… "Well, there's really nothing I left out of my letters." Nothing that wouldn't make you worry, at least. "Told Saiyaka about my unintended Aiko-neko impersonation during the fall and winter. But you already knew about that."

"Told Hermione you'd be disappointed she no longer looked like a manga cat-girl!" Saiyaka teased.

After last summer, it was relieving to see Saiyaka so open and bold with her friends. She was so shy and timid, as well as angry, but now, she fit right back in with the group, and seemed to be growing into a bolder, but still kind, personality.

"I'm not," Hiro laughed, looking at Hermione. "I promise."

_Calm the fuck down!_ Hermione chided herself when her heart thudded in her chest. _This isn't an Shoujo manga!_ Though part of her hoped Saiyaka was right about Hiro liking her too.

She was torn. Hiro was sweet, funny, considerate and a great friend. Yes, she fancied him at first sight, but she did wonder how eleven months apart would affect them if they were to try it. Not only that, but Hiro was such a good person, and Hermione…well, she had somethings to figure out.

Hermione did fancy Hiro, but she also fancied Kaori, his sister. That had to be wrong, it felt wrong. Not that she thought anything would happen, Kaori had a girlfriend, Anya. Hermione would be thirteen in a matter of months, and she thought navigating this would be simpler. She had only known people who were either into boys or girls, was it bad if she liked both? And even if it was okay to be find other people attractive while in a relationship, was it fair to the other person? She'd spent a whole damn year trying to figure out if she was confused, but she still had no clue. She wished so desperately that she knew someone like her that she could talk to.

_You're almost thirteen, figure this out yourself, you stupid piece of shit!_

Though if she could get passed that, her infatuation with Hiro was still just that. Hiro was too good for her. Charismatic, smart, happy, sensitive, kind, and capable. Hermione was just a little idiot that was in constant need of rescue whose only talent lied in being literate and knowing where the library was located. She saw her reflection, she knew she didn't have a chance with him anyway.

"Are you glad to be back?" Hiro asked placing a from his brown piece of food from his plate onto hers with his chopsticks. "Tempura banana, you should try it."

_I just got everything divided into thirds!_ Hermione thought looking at the fruit slices on her plate. The rice was separate in a bowl, and a small plate on the side stored steamed vegetables, which Hermione was in the process of sorting_. Don't be a fucking freak! All the normal people are just eating!_

That wasn't exactly true. At least Miyuki and Kaori were exchanging hushed giggles while Toshio and Sam exchanged smirks across from them. Was there something Hermione was missing in the gesture?

"Erm," she smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

Morning classes were fascinating, but Hermione managed to get through them without incident. Yokai studies reviewed Kappa and their importance in river eco-systems. Hermione loved the holistic view many of her subjects took, not only looking at the biology, behaviours and magical properties of creatures and plants, but also how they connect to the environment and the roles they played with and without human intervention. Britain lacked such holistic views.

"It makes me think of that _Ohayo, Nihon!_ Article about the kappa we read last summer," Hermione mused. "Did that company ever face legal reprecussions?"

"No," Saiyaka sighed and adjusted her glasses before averting her gaze. "Neither did the wizard who killed the kappa. _He _was heralded as a hero while the company continues to pollute the damn river!"

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said.

"Me too," Saiyaka re-established eye-contact. "If there was any justice in this world the corporation dumping toxins in the river would be held responsible. It's the nineties! Can't people learn?"

"Do you know what happened to-?"

"A fine and a slap on the wrist in muggle court," Saiyaka seethed. "A kappa, a muggle worker, and countless animals, all dead because that company couldn't adhere to restrictions already set by muggle law!"

"Jesus!" Hermione gasped. "I can't believe the shit people with money can get away with!"

The two girls ranted about corrupt authorities in Japan and Britain wishing there was something that could be done about it. Hermione hoped the _Mercury_ saw fit to write an article on the matter. A school paper wouldn't do much, but the awareness might incite the masses into action. Or more realistically, prompt people to inform those more capable of enacting change. They knew they were useless as minors. If Hermione looked back to February, the protest with her friends and following article did nothing to change the views of individual wizards, let alone any authority figures. As much as she wished it did.

"Hey, wait up!" Miyuki called after the girls.

Miyuki was followed by Kaori and Anya, and Hermione was once again confronted by the complex feelings the Yamato siblings made her feel. _Jesus, Merlin, insert higher power martyr here, she's just standing there! _

"S-senpai!" Hermione bowed, grateful for the bushy locks hiding her blush. _You're pathetic. _

Saiyaka looked at Hermione with wide eyes, and Hermione knew she made blundering spectacle of herself! Vicarious embarrassment coloured her cheeks pink and Hermione wished she could keep it together.

"I just wanted to let you girls know that _the Mercury's _first meeting of the month is tonight at six," Kaori said. "Oh, I already told Anya and Sam, but I'm the president now that Wateri-Senpai is in his career-training years."

"That's so cool," Hermione said meekly.

"So, captain of the girls' Quidditch team," Anya counted with a proud smile. "Captain of the girls' kendo club, top student, prefect president of the student council _and _president of the school paper? Remind me again what you can't do?"

"Get you out of my head," Kaori whispered taking Anya's hand.

"Gaaay!" Anya whispered.

All five girls giggled for a moment before proceeding with the conversation of clubs. Hermione was hit by a sudden thought. When she had been morphed into a cat-human hybrid, her reaction time improved, she froze less, if she had been that way when Riddle-Ginny pushed her down the stairs, she might not have needed to be rescued. She wasn't signing up to forever take on the form of a manga cat-girl, but she could do work to make herself more battle-ready. She _never _wanted to be rescued again. If she had it in her head to see Harry became the hero he was supposed to be, to worthwhile by any stretch of the imagination, she would have to step _far _outside her comfort zone.

"Kendo-club," Hermione said. "When's the next meeting? I want to join."

Miyuki, Kaori, Anya and Saiyaka exchanged nervous glances. Staring at her in utter surprise. Hermione knew she didn't look remotely athletic, and she hated the idea of volunteering to be hit with sticks, but it needed to be done. She needed to take back control in anyway she could. _Too easy to play, useless, insufferable, frail, naive, stupid little girl...not anymore!  
_

"You don't really look-" Miyuki started. "It's really intense."

"I know," Hermione nodded. "But I still want to."

Kaori shrugged and smiled. "We look forward to seeing you Wednesday!"

* * *

"I _hate _divination," Saiyaka gave an uncharacteristic grumble.

"I think I do too," Hermione agreed. "Omnyodo's fascinating in theory, but I'm not really getting anything."

"Maybe a Gaijin girl can't comprehend all of the intricacies of such a proud and ancient Japanese tradition!" Inyuama Rie teased flashing a smile.

Inyuama Rie was a very pretty girl with straight black hair falling to her elbows, pale skin and hateful black eyes. She and the tall boy with neatly arranged black hair, looking very much like her, Matou Shiro, were Hermione's least favourite part of last summer.

"Omnyodo only goes back to the seventh century, Inyuama-san," Saiyaka mumbled. "And it borrows methods from China."

"And if anyone wanted a mudblood degenerate's opinion-" Inyuama gave a fake smile. "Oh, wait, no one does!"

Inyuama and Matou sniggered together, and Saiyaka fiddled with her braid, looking down. Hermione's stomach churned looking at Saiyaka so put upon. She thought back to Malfoy's glee when muggle born students were threatened and saw the same glee in their eyes as they taunted Saiyaka for simply being who she was. Hermione's blood boiled.

"It's simply adorable that you think anyone gives a damn about some inbred _toroi _has to say, deku-sama," Hermione said with a false grin before bowing.

"Okasha, keep your gaijin girlfriend on a fucking leash!" Inyuama scowled.

"Is weaponizing homophobia the best you got?" Hermione scoffed. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but there are _several _same-sex couples milling about the school, and no one seems to care."

Not no one, but outside of a vocal minority, people seemed to be tolerant of same-sex couples. In Hogwarts Hermione hadn't so much as seen a boy kiss another boy on the cheek, but of the couples she saw holding hands in Mahoukatoro's corridors and the letters she got from Hiro, talking about how Kaori and Anya were more or less accepted, it seemed Japanese wizards were by far more tolerant of same-sex couples than British wizards. Though also judging by Hiro's letters, and Saiyaka's treatment, it wasn't exactly homophobia free either. Hermione resolved to research same-sex couples' rights under different wizarding governments.

"At least no one with at least two brain cells to rub together!" Hermione hissed.

"Shut up, you bucktoothed bitch!" Inyuama cried.

"Oh, so original," Hermione spat. "Take you all day to come up with that one?"

Saiyaka kept her gaze downwards as Hermione noticed she had attracted attention of the four at the next table. They leaned together sniggering pointing. _Oh, I _fucked _up! _She turned her own gaze downward. What the hell was she doing? How could she let Inuyama get under her skin like that? Hermione didn't defend Saiyaka, she just made matters worse! How could she after years of not telling her father about the bullying she endured for the same reason? Hermione should have _known better._ _Stupid piece of shit, what is _wrong _with you?_

"Don't fuck with me, busaiku!" Inyuama yelled this time, her face red.

_They're not gawking at_ Saiyaka... Hermione was filled with a relief she didn't attract further attention to Saiyaka, and an evil vindictive pleasure that judgement had been turned on to Inyuama. She deserved it after how terribly she treated poor Saiyaka...and her. That vindicated feeling was tainted by the tears that sprang to her black eyes.. _Did I go too far? No, she's a bitch! _

"Girls!" Tosaka Sensei, a tall, thin moustachioed man, shouted from front of the class room.

Hermione took a deep breath before rising and bowing to the teacher. "My apologies, Sensei, classmates. I will waste no more of your time."

"I apologize for my part as well," Inuyama regained her composure and bowed as well. "I should have never let our gaijin student provoke me."

"Both of you have detention," Tosaka said. "Report here Saturday after one."

"_Detention?!" _Inyuama squeaked. "I-I've never had detention before, Sensei."

"A first time for everything, Inyuama-san," he said.

For the rest of the class, Inyuama and Matou whispered angrily, the latter shooting daggers at Hermione to punctuate every sentence. She wasn't sure what they were planning, but Hermione knew she was in for it. She just hoped she didn't drag Saiyaka into whatever they were planning.

* * *

"Hermi-chan! Saiyaka-chan!" Hiro waved them over.

"Hiro-kun!" Hermione greeted.

Hermione took the chair beside Hiro after bowing to Toshio and Sam opposite him speaking in hushed tones over a file-folder. Toshio adjusted his square glasses and Sam beamed.

"What are you so happy about, Anne of Greengables?" Hiro teased.

Sam rolled his brown eyes. "If I'm Anne of Greengables then Hermione is- what part of Britain are you from again?"

Hermione mused for a bit, once again trying to pin what region her father's accent came from. "I don't remember anything before Hogwarts, so I'll take anything generically British. Watson."

"Watson?" Hiro raised an eyebrow. "Not Sherlock?"

Hermione smiled and shrugged. "I'm side-kick material."

Hiro ran a hand through his messy black hair and smirked. "I'm not so sure about that."

A furious heat rose to Hermione's cheeks and she had to look away. _What is _wrong _with you? Side-kick material! who says that shit aloud? _"Did you two break the story of year?" she squeaked redirecting at Toshio and Sam.

"Of the century!" Toshio announced. "I got pictures of the house-elves gathering after dark."

"Really?" Saiyaka and Hermione both leaned in.

"Yeah," Toshio nodded. "I went to the kitchens and they didn't notice me, so I snapped a couple of pictures while I was down there."

"What were were you doing in the kitchens last night?" Kaori asked as she entered sitting opposite Hermione.

"That might be news worthy," Anya smirked sitting next to Kaori.

Toshio pushed his square glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Sam likes onigiri , so I thought I'd make some and bring it up for us before he got here."

Miyuki smiled sitting on Hiro's other side. "Jealous! Kaori never let's me bring food to our dorm!"

"It's against the rules!" Kaori admonished.

"Aww," Sam teased. "You broke the rules for me?"

"Shut up!" Toshio groaned. "Anyway, here are the pictures!"

"Sorry," Sam scratched his close cropped black curls and averted his gaze.

"So, erm, the pictures," Hiro nervously laughed. "Let's look at them!"

Hermione expected a make shift council or advocacy meeting with house-elves gathered in a circle and speaking seriously, but instead she got pictures of house-elves just _being. _One picture showed a tiny, house-elf laughing with their eyes shut in complete bliss while a larger brown-eyed house-elf accidentally threw make shift dice into a clay cup, looking rather embarrassed. The second was two very old house-elves, sitting on their knees at a make shift table playing what appeared to be go while yet another photograph showed a large number of house-elves in the far corner of the kitchen sitting in a circle, beating on pots and pans while singing or playing home-made flutes. They all looked so at peace. Hermione felt _wrong _looking into this part of their world, it was private, theirs and Toshio wanted to _publish_ it? Why?

"Toshio-kun," Saiyaka asked in a quiet voice. "_Why _is this the story of the century?"

"Well," Toshio said. "I, erm, I-Just look how much like us they are! Playing music? Dice? Go? Most people have never seen a house-elf, let alone one laugh. I thought you'd be in favour of this, Saiyaka? Once everyone see how-"

"The house-elves take advantage of their situation to party at night?" Kaori raised a challenging eyebrow. "That's how some of the students and staff here will see it. It won't humanize or endear them to everyone, and could make things worse."

"Not to mention how the house-elves we're trying to help might feel about it," Saiyaka adjusted her glasses. "They thought they were in private. You think you're helping them, but they might feel violated. If you did this to a wizard you'd face legal action, regardless of your intentions."

"I was going to black out their eyes," he admitted. "That's the same level of-"

"And ask their permission?" Saiyaka asked.

"That's fair," Toshio bowed his head. "I'll apologize to them tonight and ask their permission."

"Can I go with you, Toshio-kun?" Hermione clasped her hands and bowed her head. "I grew up around house-elves, I understand there'll be some cultural differences, but I could be of use."

"I'd like to go too," Saiyaka fiddled with a braid. "I've done plenty of research on Japanese house-elves, so I can fill Hermi-chan's gaps."

"I'll go too!" Hiro declared.

"Hiro," Kaori warned. "You'll get in trouble, _and _the elves might find four students landing on them overwhelming."

"Says the girl who volunteered as a distraction to catch the library bandit," Hiro teased.

"Miyuki and Anya talked me into it," she grumbled. "You're allowing Toshio-kun to apologize, and making no trouble. And I know _nothing _about this."

"Yes, Senpai," the four sang.

"Now, on to articles we _can _work on..."

* * *

Sayaika and Hermione walked back from the library, their arms full of books needed for an essay Kaname had given them on kappa due the next week. Saiyaka kept her eyes down and a pensive expression. Perhaps thinking about the approach she wanted to take with the house-elves. She remained quiet until they reached their dorm.

"Erm, Hermi-chan?" she asked setting her books down on her desk.

"Look, I'm really sorry" Hermione set her own stack of books down and bowed. "I didn't mean to draw attention to you during divination-I-I, erm, I just-"

"It's not that," she said in a small voice.

"What's up?"

Saiyaka went pink in the face as she looked up at her, fiddling with the yellow ribbon in her hair for a moment. The silence was deafening and Hermione thought back to every time she had angered her father where she was met with silence rather than yelling. Did she do something wrong? She wondered if maybe she shouldn't have volunteered, but she could be of use...hopefully. What if that wasn't it. She played over the first night and the whole day wondering where Saiyaka's mood turned. After divination, Sayaika still seemed normal, and if it wasn't that, which surprised Hermione, than what could it have been?

"I noticed this morning," Saiyaka inhaled sharply. "Erm, I-when we-I know you like Hiro, but I have to know..."

Hermione turned her thoughts from what she did wrong to how she might be able to fix it. She examined Saiyaka fiddling with the yellow ribbon on her braid once more. Her dark brown eyes were expertly hidden behind both her round-rimmed spectacles and her long, straight fringe. The rest of her face hidden by the braid she'd brought up to it. Was it fear? Shame? Both?

They stood in silence and Hermione wondered just what it was Saiyaka wanted to, _had to_, know.

"Saiya-chan," Hermione placed a hand on her arm. "Are you okay?"

Saiyaka lifted her head and looked to the direction of the window. "Yes," she sighed. "I'm alright. We should get ready for tonight. Oh! Almost forgot. Accio Sake!"

A bottle of sake appeared in her hands and Hermione covered her mouth.

"For negotiations," she whispered with a wink. "Students aren't supposed to know about the teachers' cellar, but I won't tell if you won't."

Hermione felt a mischievous smirk break across her lips before offering her pinky. "It's a promise."

* * *

Saiyaka and Hermione met Hiro, Toshio and Sam at the entrance to the kitchens. Unlike in Hogwarts, the kitchen wasn't hidden behind an underground tunnel and painting that required a specific interaction to open. Instead Mahoukatoro's kitchens were merely a trip to the first floor down a corridor and through a sliding door metres away from the dining hall.

Despite the floating orbs of light high above them, no one and nothing seemed interested in catching them in the act. It felt as though more trust was extended to the students to behave independently. Or Hiro just knew enough ins and outs to keep them completely away from the usual patrols.

Toshio took a deep breath and knocked. That surprised Hermione, but she wondered if she should have done that back home instead of barging in. The door slid open, and they were greeted by an older pale house-elf, bowing to them. They each bowed in return, and judging by the expression in the elf's grey eyes, she was not expecting it either.

"Irasshaimase!" she greeted.

The elf stood confused before standing aside to let them in. Back home the reception no matter what time of day was to be inundate with house-elves that were either eager to please or playing the part very well. This time the fifty or so house-elves simply stopped what they were doing, rose if they were sitting, and bowed. Hermione entered the large kitchen with a stone stove in the centre of the room, open windows and rich wood panelling. Three counters sat along the further walls with pots and pans hanging over head while clean dishes sat drying beside a sink. Like the library, the kitchen was smaller than Hogwarts's, but had more character-or so thought the girl who grew up knowing the other one.

The elves stared at them for a moment in silence, Toshio clutched his file-folder to his chest, unsure how he wanted to go about addressing his outing the night before last. Saiyaka wasn't fairing much better, despite her readings as she searched for the right way to introduce themselves. Hermione nearly forgot that she was there because she was supposed to have an understanding of house-elves growing up in Hogwarts. How presumptuous was that? Japanese and British wizards were different, so too would the elves be! She clasped her hands together, digging her nails deep into her flesh as she tried to figure out how to regain control of the situation. She wanted nothing more than to shrink under the many pairs of large, expectant eyes.

"Hermi-chan," Hiro whispered in her ear and resting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she squeaked, before biting her lip. "We-erm-" Hermione inhaled sharply before bowing. "We would like to speak with all of you about a mistake one of us made. Once we've explained ourselves anyone who is still interested in speaking with us-erm-we have questions. It's not an order, and completely optional, however, we four would be grateful for any time you can give us."

Hermione didn't dare raise her head, still feeling their eyes on her. She wondered if the silence meant she'd somehow offended them, there was nuance to the approach Hermione knew she lacked.

"We also brought a bottle of sake," Saiyaka present the dark bottle. "An offering!"

The old elf that answered the door laughed at this. "The children bring us a bottle of sake _we_ made as an offering!"

_Shit! _

"Kiki!" hissed a male elf.

"They want to try and give us offerings," Kiki said, "Kiki is old enough to remember when elves were offered rice, sake, and tofu as offerings like yokai."

"Kiki!" he spat. "It isn't elves' place!"

Toshio dropped to his knees, and the others followed suit. Hermione wasn't sure how they would take it, but hoped Toshio knew what he was doing.

However, it was Saiyaka that spoke. "I didn't think through the offering, and I apologize."

"We should have thought more about it," Hermione said in Elvish, hoping that would help. "We would greatly appreciate any amount of time you can offer you. We ask as people who want to do right by you, not as your masters."

The older elves broke out into murmurs, speaking so quietly, Hermione could not make them out. They knelt there for what felt like hours before Kiki approached the lot of them, with the elf she was arguing with, and the older male elf that played go in one of Toshio's photographs.

"The elves will hear you children out," Kiki said. "Misguided as your attempts were, you seem sincere. Learning the language elves speak back in the homeland was a nice touch."

"I'm a gaijin," Hermione explained. "I was taught as a child by a British house-elf named Libby."

"Either way," Kiki smirked. "Kiki amused-"

"Kiki!" cried the old male house elf.

"The elves will hear you out," she finished.

The elves gathered in a circle, inviting them to join them on the floor. Some of them looked rather uncomfortable and it was hard to tell if it was propriety or contempt that caused it. Maybe fear, Hermione wasn't, but Hiro, Toshio, and Saiyaka were students of the school and technically their masters. Centuries of indoctrination, intimidation and abuse left their mark, many elves would never be candid about their motives or feelings.

"I snuck into the kitchen last night to get a snack, and I took these," Toshio's hands shook as he took the file folder and opened it.

Voices broke into anger and panic, a number of large eyes stared daggers into Toshio. Toshio crumpled under the weight of their stares, his dark olive face draining of colour before he squinted his eyes shut and clapped his hands together. "_Gomennasai!" _he cried before kowtowing before the circle.

The apology perplexed some, while others were still uneasy.

"Nami can explain!" cried a timid female elf as her eyes locked with a picture of her teaching a younger elf how to play the flute.

"There's no need to explain," Hermione bowing her head. "We were the ones in the wrong and we came to ask forgiveness."

Saiyaka followed suit. "Toshio only wanted to prove that you were just like us. Many Japanese wizards feel they are above you and we wanted to prove them wrong."

A clamour of voices rose from the house-elves, some panicked, some contemplative and others furious. Kiki and the old male house elf remained stoic among the younger elves. Hermione always thought Japanese culture was patriarchal, but it seemed Kiki held the most sway among the elves, she simply rose her hand and the elves fell silent.

"Your apologies seem sincere," Kiki observed. "But regardless of your motives,you invaded our privacy and intended on circulating the pictures. Kiki appreciates your apologies, but no one here is under any obligation to forgive you."

"But Toshio meant well," Sam argued before Saiyaka stayed him.

"We're not entitled to forgiveness," Saiyaka said. "Thank you for hearing us out."

Hiro ran a hand through his hair and placed his hand over Hermione's before bowing his head. "I'm afraid we have one more thing to ask..."

Hermione's stomach knotted as she remembered asking Libby what she would do if she weren't enslaved. She knew Hiro was going to ask permission like they planned, she should have prepared for this. She thought she had, that was why she was there, and now her abolitionist desires conflicted with her-admittedly petty-desire not to be judged by them. It wasn't just that, she didn't want to hurt them. It was a fine line that even after all these years Hermione didn't understand as much as she liked to think she did at times.

Hiro gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and Hermione inhaled deeply. She felt the weight of fifty pairs of eyes and wanted to shrink into the floor. She noticed it wasn't just the elves staring at her, but her friends as well. _ You volunteered for this, you stupid piece of shit! _

"Please understand that this is a request and you are under no obligation to agree with us," Hermione bowed.

"You're gaijin, girl," Kiki said. "Magical contract doesn't extend to you. You can ask whatever without fear of binding us to it. Even if you're speaking on their behalf."

_God, I love loopholes! _Hermione sighed with relief. "Our goal is to prove you feel things just as deeply as wizards do and that there is no place for wizard or human supremacy in our world. To do that we would like permission to interview any volunteers about their lives. We'll be completely respectful and you'll remain anonymous. We originally meant to ask for permissions to use the pictures if we censored them, but we understand now that might be risky."

This time the old male elf beside Kiki spoke up, his dark eyes almost swimming as his mouth twisted with apprehension. "Everyone here but Kiki and Rami are too young to know the horrors of crying for freedom. You're scaring some and giving others hope that will do nothing but destroy them. We're nothing but a cause for you'll abandon once things get hard. We've fought for our own freedom a hundred years ago, and we lost almost everything."

"With all due respect, Ojisan," said a much younger elf with his nearly black eyes. "Su-I've been saying all this time that we need to change! Obassan agrees with me! And this-" they gestured to Hiro, Saiyaka, Sam and Hermione "Proves attitudes have changed. We have a chance now, Oj-"

"Kiki," the old elf glared at her. "You _know _what-"

"And our grandchild does too. We didn't lose everything, Rami!" she hissed.

Once more, Hermione felt that they were intruding on the elves' privacy. This seemed to be a family drama that the five of them had no business hearing. That trauma was theirs to process.

Hermione turned her thoughts to Rami's claims of "horrors". She never read about Elvish revolts before, and wondered if the topic was similarly hidden back home, or if only Japanese elves thought to try it. _No, that would be unlikely. History is written by the victors, that's why the Goblin revolts are covered, but white-washed._

"Suni," Rami hissed. "You and your friends are too young to understand what-"

"Suni and Kiki volunteer to be interviewed if we're anonymous," Kiki said.

"As do Koko and Heswi!" a pair of elves, one male, one female, about Suni's age volunteered.

"Kiki, you don't-"

"Unlike Suni Kiki _has _lived through a revolt," Kiki snarled. "Kiki knows exactly what Kiki is doing!"

They had six volunteers in total. Hermione and Saiyaka did the interviewing together, with surprising guidance from Kiki, who Hermione had been certain hated them. After a few hours they had six accounts of 'a-day-in-the-life' stories, and Kiki provided a brief history of elves in Japan and movements, both movements that won and lost, in magical Asia started by Elves themselves. Rami's words that they were 'nothing but a cause to them' resonated with Hermione, though she saw elves as equal, she never learned about or even imagined their own agency in their fight for freedom. It made sense, but Hermione never thought about it.

"Thank you," the five of them bowed to Kiki and the other elves before wishing them a good night. Hermione and Saiyaka immediately went to bed with the resolve to put together the accounts the next day. She hoped something would come of it rather than falling on deaf ears.


	37. Mahoukatoro Interlude 2 Part Three

_Drip, Drip, Drip..._

Hermione awoke on a cold damp floor wondering where she was. Her eyes scanned the room as she tried to lift herself off the ground. She let out a pained scream as a searing pain traveled up her broken arm. Saiyaka and Momo were nowhere to be found and Hermione knew exactly where she was.

"Welcome back, Hermione," Riddle cackled, grinning with Ginny's face. "Don't bother looking I still have your wand."

Hermione eyed the petitte redhead and knew a broken arm was the least of the damage she needed to worry about. How-they saved Ginny! Riddle's diary-they destroyed it! This, this couldn't be real. Hermione took in deep braths and dug her nails deep into the broken hand to no avail. She had lost all control, she would die in this snake themed chamber and Harry would be left to figure out the secret of the diary himself-_no, he could do that, I was useless last time, it'll be fine...I just-this isn't real. Control, regain-_

"Control?" Riddle spat grabbing her by the broken arm. "You'll never have control over anything! Least of all yourself. You're losing it, you stupid girl. I think Harry Potter and Ginny would have faired better without you mucking things up, don't you?"

_3, 9, 15...This is a dream wake up! _

"You might as well cry out," Riddle shrugged. "If anyone can hear you, they won't care."

_Regain control...you managed to reach Ginny once ...No, that doesn't matter this isn't real._

"Why didn't you help me earlier?!" Ginny-who was actually Ginny- cried. "The things I've done, the things I almost-and reaching out to me to make me _aware _of Riddle possessing me? I'll likely never recover, but I could have if you let me stay dormant!"

Harry appeared in the chamber holding a damaged diary and the sword of Gryffindor. "Riddle was right about one thing, you _are absolutely useless."_

"No, Harry-" Hermione pleaded.

"_I _fought the basilisk, _I _found the chamber-I don't care that you already had a theory, you did nothing with it! And _I_ destroyed the diary! It was the troll all over again!" Harry seethed. "The only useful thing you did was determine the pipes were involved-and that's only because you were attacked!"

Her father appeared looming over her, glaring at her, even in the dim light she could feel his black eyes boring into her very soul. His mouth twisted and he folded his arms over his chest. "You little idiot! You could have ruined everything! I once accused you of having a martyr complex, but martyr's sacrifice themselves for the good of others. By not coming to me, by keeping this shit to yourself you've only managed to hurt the people you claim to care about! What is _wrong_ with you? I thought I might be a failure as a parent, but _you're _the failure. There was no fixing you, and I frankly don't know why I bothered. You stupid piece of shit!"

Hermione dug her nails further into her broken hand, she tried to steady her breath but failed. She had to control herself, maintain composure but tears stung her eyes and sobs escaped her mouth.

"You're pathetic, weak, useless!" her father continued. "Please, tell me how lying to you to _protect you_ is worse than what you've done?"

"Oh, Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "You must be thoroughly disappointed."

Luna knelt before Hermione and cupped her face in her hands. "Oh, Hermione," she whispered. "I liked you better as a cat."

A cold woman's laugh echoed through the chamber and the image Hermione had in her mind of her "mother" appeared before her. "This is precisely why I left! You're nothing but a disappointment!"

Hermione saw herself, covered in tawny fur with mismatched eyes, cat ears protruding from her hair and a tail, appear before her. "This is the only way you could ever be of use. Just stop trying before do _actually _ruin everything."

Ginny's voice was the next Hermione heard, but it was definitely Riddle speaking. "All you are is what you can do for others, and you are useless!"

"Which precisely why I find you so insufferable," her father sneered.

* * *

"I'm sorry!" Hermione cried before realizing she was in Saiyaka's dorm.

"Lumos," Saiyaka whispered. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded turning her eyes from Saiyaka so she could hide the fact that she was crying. _You're pathetic, stupid piece of shit! _"Yeah," she squeaked. "Just a nightmare. It's stupid, I've had them since I was little."

"I had a lot of nightmares the year before last," Saiyaka confessed lighting her the lamp on her desk and finding her glasses.

"It's fine, Saiya-chan," Hermione clasped her hands. "You should go back to sleep, we have a long day tomorrow. I'm really sorry to have woken you-I-"

Back at Hogwarts Hermione was either ignored by Parvarti and Lavender, or received with extreme annoyance. She learned early on ways to keep herself quiet during the night, but Saiyaka was a good deal closer than the girls back home, and Hermione couldn't magically sound proof non-existent curtains. Even her father met her with an exasperated resignation when he went to check on her during the summer. She expected Sayaika to cut her off with a probably deserved comment on how Hermione was cutting into her sleep and if she couldn't focus tomorrow it was her fault, but instead she sat by her side and placed Momo in her lap. She _smiled _at her.

"S-Saiyaka?" she didn't risk venturing eyecontact but stared at the purring fat grey cat.

"You ever have a slumber party?" she asked playing with her hair.

"A what?" Hermione asked blinking.

Saiyaka smiled and shrugged. "Me neither, and it won't be much with just the two of us. We'll have to have a real one when you leave. But basically we just-erm- talk and play games, gossip about our crushes and do each other's hair, and-haven't you read about them in manga?"

_Shit, I did! _Images of Aiko and her friends eating copious amounts of junk food, doing each other's hair, playing board games and talking came to mind. It did look like fun in those panels, but Hermione did wonder- "How is it different from when we caught up last night?"

"Listen, you," Saiyaka chastised, but laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're trying to help, I get it. But you shouldn't- Honestly, I'm surprised this is your solution," she smirked deciding the distraction would be good for both of them.

"Miyuki's been simply a terrible influence on me while you were gone, Hermi-chan!" Saiyaka lamented.

Both girls broke into giggles and started talking about anything. It started with books, fiction, non-fiction, Sayaika shared Hermione's desire to read every word to have ever been written-though Saiyaka was hardly as hyperbolic as Hermione. The conversation soon shifted to the seven school mysteries and Hermione was captivated.

"And of course there's Hanako-san, the toilet bound ghost-"

"How have I not run into her?" Hermione asked thinking she would have last year.

"Hanako-san exists in every school's girls' toilet in Japan. She's normally comes when summoned," Sayaika explained. "Though it's not always the best idea, she can get quite angry. She fluctuates between seven and twelve, and I find she has the emotional regulation of a seven-year-old."

"That's actually really sad," Hermione said. "So wait, is Hanako-san a ghost or a spirit? If she haunts every school's girls' toilet and fluctuates in age-"

"Hanako-san blurs the line," Saiyaka explained. "Kind of like Onryo, she was just a girl, but her tragic death made her more than just a ghost, and the rumours of her dying through the bombings, murdered or committing suicide all seem to be true at different times. Like an entity all her own and a product of cultural imagination at the same time."

"There's so little I understand," Hermione sighed.

"Join the club," Saiyaka sighed. "No matter how much I read, the line is confusing and spirits like Hanako-san just have to exist in their own category in my mind for me to keep sane."

Hermione understood that. Things that could be neatly tucked into categories, classified and broken down made sense. It gave her a sense of control, if she could understand something at it's most fundamental level then it was something she could handle. Things that broke that broke Hermione's sense of safety, and she could tell it was the same with Saiyaka.

"Her story's so sad," Hermione said thinking how Hanako-san died.

"It is," Saiyaka sighed solemnly before shaking her head. "I-erm-let's talk about something else."

Saiyaka's face paled and her brown eyes stared at her hands playing with the ends of her wavy hair. Her whole body stiffened and Hermione knew she'd touched on something very sensitive. The bombings happened fifty years ago, she might still have relatives that remember them and the war.

"S-sorry," she bowed her head. "What do you want to talk about?"

A silence passed between them and Saiyaka leapt up from her bed to fetch her hair brush and ribbons. She returned and started wrestling with Hermione's stubborn bushy locks.

"Wow," she observed running the brush through it. "It's-erm-kind of like sheep's wool, isn't it?"

Hermione didn't know why, but she felt incredibly insulted. Though there was no trace of malice in Saiyaka's voice. She thought about it, and remembered that she only saw a handful of people with her hair type in her life-time and to Hermione's knowledge soft ringlets were the curliest hair types they were used to before her arrival. _Yay, homogenous societies. _She let it pass, and remembered that she was (probably) mixed, white-passing and raised by a single white parent (who might or might not have been related to her), so it wasn't her place to be insulted-at least not on that level...she didn't think. Like all the anti-Chinese crap thrown at her back home, it wasn't really a struggle she could claim...maybe.

_Stop thinking about it, you little idiot._

"It's a mess," Hermione laughed. "I basically just keep it clean, it's impossible to work with."

"I think, I've got it," Saiyaka said finally separating it. "So, I-erm-I've been meaning to ask...I know you like Hiro, but do you-erm-like Kaori too?"

"Erm," Hermione was grateful Saiyaka was braiding her hair rather than facing her when the heat rose to her cheeks. What was she supposed to say? She could lie. Liking both siblings felt wrong. She always pictured herself with one partner, if she liked both could she still do that? And even if she could-siblings? Who the hell developed crushes on related people? _What is _wrong _with you? Stupid little girl..._

"I think I do," Hermione whispered. "Is that bad? I don't know I- I certainly think I like Hiro more. I want to be with him, but I feel-I don't know- attracted to Kaori-like really attracted to-I could be gay, but I _really _fancy Hiro-I-I-I'm not making any damn sense am I?"

"I don't think you're gay, Hermione," Saiyaka sighed softly. "I think you might be bisexual, though. And it's normal. My papa's bi."

Bisexual, how did Hermione never come across that term before? Normal, if Saiyaka's father was bi, and it had a name like straight or gay it was more than just her. Hearing that from Saiyaka did give her some relief, but she still felt somehow wrong. And Saiyaka did sound disappointed, maybe there was something wrong-she did have a crush on two members of the same family.

"N-normal?" Hermione bit her lip. "I don't _feel _normal." _Do you really have to burden your friend with this? Figure it out yourself!_

"I didn't either when I started having feelings for Miyuki," Saiyaka explained. "In fact, that's why my papa told me he was bi. I wasn't boarding yet, and so one night I confided to my parents how I felt about Miyuki. Momma said it was normal for young girls and I might grow out of it, but if I didn't that was fine too. Papa explained that from the time he was my age-at the time-he knew he liked boys, girls and others."

Hermione clasped her hands. She felt wrong asking this, bothering Saiyaka with it, but she had to ask. "And your parents are happy together?"

Saiyaka gave a soft laugh. "Completely faithful. In fact, my half-sister is from my mother's previous marriage. He told me in case I was bi too that one of his insecurities when he found that out about himself was that he couldn't be faithful. He can and is. Also having multiple crushes is totally normal for teenagers."

Hermione chewed the inside of her lip. She had been wrestling with herself for a year about this, to find out all of this was both a weight off her shoulders, but almost unbelievable. Had she really put herself through so much unnecessary anguish when she could have just _been._ It seemed too good to be true and then the source of Saiyaka's information-that might have been the most fantastical part of it. "You actually _talk _to your parents about this?"

"Yes?" Saiyaka said slowly. "You don't?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think he'd want to be bothered with it. How'd you know I liked Kaori?"

"It was really obvious," Saiyaka laughed. "'S-Senpai, O-ohayo!' Don't worry, I don't think anyone else noticed. I half-hoped I was misreading it to be honest," she sighed.

"Saiya-chan?" Hermione turned to face her.

Saiyaka immediately averted her gaze as her face flushed pink. "If I don't say this now I'll go a whole other year wondering."

"S-Saiyaka?" Hermione choked after a silence.

Saiyaka adjusted her glasses with a shaking hand. "It was easier, telling myself you only liked boys...I had a crush on a straight girl before. But knowing you like girls too...it means that you don't- Hermione, I _like _you."

"But why?" Hermione asked finding her feet. _How eloquent! Add her to the list of people you hurt. _"Saiya-chan, I- I'm, well, _me_."

Saiyaka balled her hands into fists at her sides. "I knew you didn't feel the same, but I had to say it."

Hermione wasn't good enough for her anyway. But she didn't feel that way about Saiyaka, maybe she should rather than crushing on the sister of the boy she also had a crush on. Hermione knew how Saiyaka felt, or understood it anyway. If Hermione had the capacity to be attracted to girls and wasn't attracted to Saiyaka-well if it were the other way around Hermione would have felt like she was the problem. Maybe Hermione owed it to her to try, but she felt that would be doing both of them a disservice. Hermione could only see Saiyaka as a friend, a close one. Some delusional part of her felt she was closest thing Hermione would ever have to a sister.

"You're not the problem," Hermione said feeling a lump form in her throat. "I just-erm-I can't think of you that way. I admire you, you're smart, compassionate, pretty, funny...you're amazing. I just-"

A year of fantasising about Hiro confessing and she had no idea how to navigate this. Tears sprang into her eyes and she suddenly felt all those dreambeings were absolutely right about her.

"Can't think of me that way," Saiyaka sighed. "I understand-w-we have a long day tomorrow. We should get what sleep we can."

"I'm sorry, Saiya-chan," Hermione choked.

"It's fine," Saiyaka smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes. "Get some sleep, Hermi-chan."

* * *

Saiyaka and Hermione were content to pretend her confession never happened, but things were...awkward. Saiyaka spent most the day buried in a book, a coping mechanism Hermione herself indulged in. When not doing homework, Hermione spent most of the week compiling her interviews into a cohesive segment for the paper, missing Saiyaka's input. Outside of classes and lights out, the two only hung out with the group, which made it very easy to pretend things were normal. That being said, Hermione cursed herself every time Hiro said something to make her blush-which was frequent-and could feel Saiyaka's eyes on them.

Though something that could make Hermione and Saiyaka exchange a strained smile was watching Inyuama Rie struggle with her new nick name 'Deku-sama' thrown about the corridors. Perhaps Hermione should have felt guilty, but she had enough on her plate, and the vindictive spirit within her still needed to see Inyuama get her comeuppance.

That was before Saturday rolled around and Hermione had her detention with Inyuama. They came to the divination classroom to meet not the moustachioed Tosaka-Sensei, but the short, stout, yet intimidating Kaname-Sensei.

"Konnichewa, Kaname-Sensei," Hermione muttered after steadying her breath and bowing. "Was Tosaka-Senesei delayed?"

"We take turns supervising miscreants," Kaname sneered. "Weeks with no detentions, and you girls act up in time for my Saturday."

"Go-" Inyuama and Hermione started.

"Don't bother apologizing," he groaned handing both girls brooms. "Tosaka-Sensei has tasked you girls with cleaning every room on this floor."

"All of them, Sensei?" Inyuama choked. "But that'll take-"

"All afternoon, Inyuama-san," Kaname nodded. "You girls take from my time and your classmates' time, I take from yours. It's only fair. Be grateful he's having you clean the rooms and not your mouths. That was my suggestion."

"Yes, Sensei," they both said, bowing.

Hours went by, scrubbing desks, blackboards and floors, sweeping, dusting and even reordering books on shelves. The girls did what they could to remain separate from each other, but every now and then Inyuama would trip Hermione with her broom, or walk through an area she had just mopped. She told herself she would live with it, not say a word. Hermione couldn't risk having a letter sent home. She quietly went about her tasks, she had practice taking shit with a fuming silence.

They were in the last bloody classroom, and Hermione could see the orange sunset streaming through the large panelled window. Hermione started on the desks closest to the window. If nothing else she could see the north garden bathed in golden sunlight while the willow fronds blew in the light breeze. She began scrubbing the fourth desk when Inyuama 'accidentally' knocked over Hermione's bucket of soapy water on to her.

"Oh, Honestly!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Snape-san," Inyuama gasped. "I didn't see you there, you'd think I would with that big bushy head of yours, squirrel teeth or those hateful Korean eyes, but I guess you just don't show up on my radar."

_Hateful Korean eyes? That's a first. _A phrase Hermione had never heard before in Britain or Japan, and despite having no clue what part of East-Asia she had ancestry in, the blood in her veins boiled. She understood there were tensions between Korea and Japan-to put it lightly- but Inyuama's comments were no different than the rumours around her origins focusing on Chinese restaurants and dead cats, she was being racist it was an easy way to hurt her if Inyuama didn't care about others in the group-which she imagined she didn't.

"Ran out of things to call me based on being British or ugly?" Hermione asked. "I'll admit, it took you longer than I thought, but now you're grasping at straws. Exhaust that last braincell of yours, deku-sama?"

Inyuama narrowed her black eyes and clenched her fists tightly around her broom before hissing. "Muggle loving, _Kimchin _ni-"

"Inyuama-san!" Kaname shouted.

Both girls turned to see that Kaname was much closer than either of them had taken into account. He glared down at the two of them, his dark brown eyes staring daggers into them. Hermione was familiar with this from back home, that seething rage behind his glare was not going to go unaccompanied by some hateful statements. She bowed and apologized along with Inyuama.

"You may leave, Snape-san," he said very slowly before turning his gaze to Inyuama. "Inyuama, a word."

Whatever Kaname was going to say to her, Hermione was certain she would pay the price for it later.

* * *

"Hermi-chan!" Hiro called out.

"Oh, Hiro-kun," Hermione choked looking up from her books using her sleeve to dry her eyes. "I'm sorry, I think I fell asleep."

Hiro sat beside Hermione, and ran a hand through his black hair. "I-erm-are you okay?"

Those kind hazel eyes looked into hers without judgement and Hermione wanted to spill everything, but couldn't shake the feeling that doing so would only burden him. What should she say? Inyuama said a bunch of racist stuff that may or may not apply to her and it cut deep anyway? No, that probably sounded pathetic. Especially when it didn't even occur to her to be hurt until she was alone. How did you explain that?

"I can't believe we used to be friends," Hiro sighed. "Inyuama, she's-I want to blame Matou, but it was before they got together she turned nasty. Did she say something to you?"

Hermione bit her lip and stared at him. Hiro smiled gently and placed his hand on top of hers, linking his pinky into hers and sending a warmth through her body. That was enough, the barriers Hermione put up came down, not like a dam bursting, but more like Hiro had carefully picked at the wall brick by brick. Hermione couldn't help but sigh.

"Apparently I have hateful Korean eyes," she admitted closing her book. "Last year she said truly awful things about me being British, but-it was too much like back home-and if Kaname hadn't cut her off she would have said much worse. Is it stupid I'm _this _upset?"

"I don't think it is," Hiro said. "But I think I know something that'll cheer you up. The others are in the clubroom, we've been working on it while you were in detention."

"I just assumed you would have let out by now," Hermione frantically wiped at her eyes. "You didn't even know-what if you didn't find me?"

Hiro took her hands and pulled her up from her chair. "Okay, okay, they're still assembling it for print on Monday. But you should really come."

Hermione smiled back and her heart pounded in her chest, forgetting that she had been reduced to tears moments before.

* * *

"And that completes the print for tomorrow!" Kaori announced as Hiro led Hermione to the studyroom.

Saiyaka awkwardly smiled at the two of them and Hermione dropped Hiro's hand feeling quite unsure of everything that was going on. There was too much. Hermione had never rejected anyone before, she never thought she would be in a position to reject someone. She thought being ugly would save her from that, but instead she rejected a _friend. _Some part of her still felt as though she should have just said yes. She was attracted to girls, surely she could try to be attracted to Saiyaka...but she preferred their friendship...or she did before her confession.

"Hermi-chan, you and Saiyaka were the powerhouses behind this," Hiro proclaimed. "You both had nearly perfect articles from the interviews, so Saiyaka helped me take the two articles with the interviews and research and hybrid them."

Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about that. Both she and Saiyaka conducted the interviews, they did the background research together, but to take Hermione's writing and-

"I'm sorry, Hermione-chan," Saiyaka bowed. "I should have waited. But most of the article is yours, though it's evident Japanese isn't your first language in a couple places, and I provide cultural context. Your article was very good outside of those. We went with my headline for that reason too."

Hermione didn't expect that. She picked up the front page article and found it to be true, Hermione's article was enhanced by Saiyaka's input, read much better if Hermione was honest, but the a good chunk of the article was still hers. It was printed with both of their names, and it appeared Toshio got permission from Kiki and Sunni to have their picture taken, the two praying at a shrine to their ancestors. Something very intimate, but she knew Kiki and Sunni allowed it, given Toshio's last encounter.

"They said this would be the most relatable and sympathetic," Toshio explained. "Though I did feel a bit like a tourist snapping pictures at a shrine."

"This is beautiful," Hermione gasped. "You know, in Britain loads of wizards claim that elves can't feel pain or sorrow as deeply as we do. Showing a shrine, that'll be rather convincing."

"We have the same myths here," Saiyaka admitted adjusting her glasses. "That's why we need something so evocative. I can't look at that picture without feeling what I feel when I place an offering and light incense for my ancestors."

"Grief is the universal language," Sam mused eyeing the lay-out.

"I just hope it's received well," Kaori sighed.

"We all do, Oneechan," Hiro said.

Hermione examined the lay-out herself, re-reading the article to ensure they did Sunni, Kiki and the rest of the elves justice. She laid her hand out on it feeling the fragile paper beneath it. Could this ink and paper truly start something, change the minds of Japanese young wizards? She hoped so, and wondered if the elves got to read the peice they consented to, or if they were just supposed to trust them. She mused staring at the layout when Hiro's hand found hers once more.

She looked up and saw the gleam in his hazel eyes flickering in the orange candlelight. He smiled gently at her before speaking. "The Elves can't read Japanese, but when Toshio, Sam, Saiyaka and I went to get the pictures and consent, Saiyaka read the final draft aloud to Kiki and Sunni. They approved of it."

Hermione smiled back at him. "You four are brilliant. No, all of you are. This is great."

"Kaori and I just helped put it together and print it," Anya smiled. "This is on you kiddos. You should be proud."

"Pride can wait until we see how well it's received," Saiyaka muttered at the same time Hermione said "I'll be proud if it works" under her breath.

Saiyaka and Hermione shared a knowing glance, before turning to the rest of the group who did not wait to be proud as Miyuki predicted the five younger members would surely grow up to be hard-hitting journalist. Saiyaka blushed at this, adjusting her glasses, Toshio beamed (he had wanted to be a photo-journalist since he was nine according to Hiro), Sam smiled, and Hiro gave his trade mark carefree grin. Hermione simply stared at the spread, as if she could will its message to go through.

* * *

Monday saw the circulation of their special issue of the _Mahoukatoro Mercury _and its reception was all over the place. Most simply didn't speak of it, while others seemed sympathetic and a vocal minority mocked it.

"Look at them taking proud Japanese traditions and mocking them!" Matou Shirou hissed to Inyuama during History. "Of course it's written by that Okinawan mudblood and that stupid gaijin girl."

"It's simply dreadful!" Inyuama agreed. "Anyone bother to tell that bitch that slavery is _her _country's number one export?"

Hermione bit her lip. She wanted to call Inuyama out, but she couldn't afford another detention. She didn't know how much she could push the rules before she was kicked from the program. Or when they might send a raven to her father. It seemed the outright slur against Saiyaka would go uncontested once again. They were whispering at the back and Higurashi-Sensei was lecturing at the front. What the hell did these people have against muggle-borns anyway? Was their xenophobia so strong that only pure-blooded Japanese wizards counted as people? No, Hermione already knew the answer to that.

"Ignore them," Saiyaka whispered.

Hermione tried, taking notes on Ida period policies for regulating magic use among muggles. It was their luck that they sat close to Inyuama and Matou in this class as well as divination. The hate they had for Saiyaka should have meant they would want to sit anywhere else, but despite Inyuama's complaints in their first divination class last summer, it seemed they loved picking on Saiyaka more.

"You know," Inyuama giggled. "I overheard that limey girl telling Yamato, Okasha, Hitoromi and the other gaijin last year that she didn't know where she came from. I bet she was one of those half-Korean box babies! A face not even a mother could love. That's why they're sold to desperate Westerners. Bet she's a mudblood too!"

_No...not here too! _How could Hermione have been so careless as not to tell them that in private? Why couldn't she just lie. Say something like 'oh, I'm from London'? None of them would have asked which part of London? Hermione's stomach churned. This was the one place her origins didn't matter. No one here knew about her father, about the rumours that started up around a Chinese restaurant or transfigured cats. Hermione was just another gaijin girl...and that was all gone.

Hermione dug her nails into the back of her hands and tried to steady her breathing. How could this all come crashing down behind her? This was her sanctuary and Inyuama destroyed it with a single giggled comment. Hermione lost control of yet another aspect of her life and she didn't know how to get it back. Tears stung her eyes and Hermione dug her nails deeper into her hands and watched blood form on her nails. She was _not _giving that bitch the satisfaction of crying.

Higurashi's lecture went over Hermione's head as she tried to focus on not crying. When the melodic chimes ended to signal the end of class Hermione carefully rose, gathered her books and subtly sped to the nearest toilet.

_You're pathetic, get it together! _She instructed herself drying her eyes in the cubicle. _Fuck, you are used to this. This isn't a big deal. You've endured years of this. Your feelings don't matter...think of _actual _Koreans in Japan or Black people, or Saiyaka and other muggleborns. They have it so much worse than you! You're not entitled to be hurt by this. And what about the Elves? If you're going to be upset about anything, it should be anger no one gives a damn about them! You stupid-  
_

Hermione's self-chastisements were interrupted by a knocking on the door.

"Hermi-chan?" Saiyaka's voice called. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Hermione lied. "I'm just not feeling well. You should go on without me. I'll be fine."

"Hermi-"

"Please," Hermione choked. "Just leave me be."

"O-okay," Saiyaka said, sounding rather dejected.

* * *

Hermione should have handled that better. She did apologize to Saiyaka when she finally returned to the dorm, but the damage had been done. Things continued to be awkward toward them at club meetings and in classes, but Hermione didn't know how to fix it. She wished she could just go back in time and stop herself from waking Saiyaka that night. Though, that would only make things better for Hermione if she could. Saiyaka probably needed to confess. And now Hermione had hurt her twice.

Hermione felt control slip through her fingers. She could do everything thrice, ensure she knew precisely how to conduct herself before embarking on a new thing, and still she fucked everything up! She wondered if Saiyaka told Hiro, as he spent more and more time with her in the library.

"The world won't end if you take a break, Hermi-chan," Hiro smiled, placing his hand on hers.

Despite spiral into self-pity, Hermione felt a pleasant tingle move through her body at his smile.

"You're right, I suppose," she sighed, staring at their hands. "What do you want-shit!" Hermione slapped her forehead.

"Hermi-chan?" Hiro knit his eyebrows in confusion.

"I totally forgot! I have to get to girls' Kendo! I'll see you after, Hiro-kun! Promise!"

"Kaori lets friends watch during practices, so long as there aren't too many," Hiro rose with her. "I'll come with you."

"That sounds great," Hermione bit her lip.

_So long as I don't make a complete arse of myself..._

* * *

Hiro led Hermione to a red-walled gymnasium with wooden floors and wide windows along the western wall, casting everything in a warm orange glow. Hermione appreciated the magic used to contort the castle's space for large rooms such as these. The wall opposite the windows were stands that a few spectators sat in, including Anya and Saiyaka.

At the centre of the gynasium stood about twenty girls of different ages in white hakama chatted holding long shafts of bamboo-shinai, Hermione thought read- each looking rather confident holding them.

"Hey!" Miyuki waved Hermione over. "You're just in time, Hermione-chan!"

Hermione walked over into the throng of girls and listened to Kaori, standing at the centre explain club 'house-keeping', review rules and take attendance. One name made Hermione very nervous.

"Busaiku!" Inuyama seethed, staring daggers into her.

Hemione swallowed and clasped her hands together. She had no idea that Inyuama Rie was part of the Kendo club, or she would have-no, she would have still signed up for it. But she was worried. She came here because she wanted to escape the constant victimhood that seemed to follow her around. Now one of the only girls her age was one who had gone out of her way to make Hermione a victim in Japan as well.

Hermione dug her nails into her flesh as she tried to reassure herself that Inuyama wouldn't risk another detention to terrorize her. She had been so upset about the first one. She tried to control her breathing and a dormant part of her brain awoke telling her to dive under the stands. She ignored this.

She wished she hadn't when sparring came around.

"I'll take the new girl!" Inyuama volunteered, while three girls giggled behind her.

Again Hermione felt her core freeze at Inyuma's black stare. She once heard someone describe her father's eyes as blackholes threatening to swallow unwitting victims in to their freezing void, Hermione felt that was true of Inyuama's gaze. Something very, very sinister laid behind her pretty little smirk, and Hermione's stomach churned.

She looked up to see both Hiro and Saiyaka sitting in the stands, both waved at her, Saiyaka with a weak smile and Hiro beaming. She didn't want either of them to see how shamefully she was about to lose to Inyuama.

Hermione clenched her bamboo shinai in her hand feeling the weight and length of it more keenly than she had in drills. Was it exhaustion or nerves? Both, likely. Even the wood beneath her barefeet grew cold. She stepped forward from one end and Inyuama entered opposite her. She refused the urge to shrink as they made eyecontact.

_Don't fuck this up, _she told herself.

The girls bowed to each other and Kaori instructed them to begin.

Inyuama charged at Hermione with a wide swing, which Hermione managed to dodge, but twisted her ankle in the process. She steadied herself, ignoring the pain in her ankle as Inyuama came at her again, more aggressively. Hermione attempted to parry the attack and a loud smack of wood against fabric and flesh filled Hermione's ears. Pain shot through her right arm as she tried to dodge another deceptively powerful blow from Inyuama across Hermione's chest, knocking the wind from her as her vision went purple. She lost her footing but not before trying to parry a last blow from Inyuama and this time the sound that accompanied the shinai hitting her right arm was a loud _crack. _A sharp, throbbing pain overtook Hermione and despite herself she dropped her shinai and fell to the hardwood floor with a scream.

* * *

"Where am I?" Hermione asked.

Her eyes focused and she didn't need to be told. The long lines of beds with white sheets and smell of anti-septic were universal. Hermione had landed in the hospital. Hiro and Saiyaka stood on either side of her bed, while Kaori, Anya, Toshio, Sam and Miyuki stood at the foot of her bed. A very cross looking, elderly nurse in white came to her side and examined her.

"Broken arm, broken rib and three ankle bones broken!" she tallied off. "I can't believe your parents signed the medical consent form."

_Medical consent form? Shit..._

"You'll be fixed up in no time," the nurse's tone changed. "Should be out of here in the morning. Call if you need me."

"This should have never happened, Hermi-chan," Kaori explained. "I'm so sorry. I reported Inyuama, but it happened so fast we didn't realize she was being excessive until you hit the ground! And I didn't tell you about the consent form because Hiro said your father would never approve."

Hermione smiled at Hiro. "You have no idea how right you are!"

"Hermi-chan," Hiro said. "I'm so sorry."

"You two shouldn't blame yourselves," Hermione said. "Inyuama was the one who-oh no! You reported her? She's going to make the next two weeks of my life hell! Sorry! You're probably going to send what's left of me back to my father in a matchbox.."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Kaori snapped. "She'll do no such thing. I'll admit, she's a bully, but she won't risk any more trouble. I have no clue why she's acting out as much as she is."

"She's had it out for Hermione since they landed in detention together," Saiyaka said. "And you were just defending me..."

"It's because I'm a _gaijin degenerate with_ _hateful Korean eyes,_" Hermione sighed. "She's just a bigot. What's with all the anti-Korean crap anyway? She hated me last year-"

"Not as much as she hates you this year," Saiyaka explained. "Inyuama presents herself as the perfect Japanese witch. Coming number three in class, not out performing an Okinawan muggleborn and now landing in detention because of a gaijin? It's easy for her to blame you instead of herself, and you have East-Asian features and Koreans are especially hated by families like the Inyuamas. So deciding you're half-Korean or any other group she hates suits her. And if she happened to be right, it was a bonus for her."

"Should have figured," Hermione sighed. "Honestly, I'm surprised she hasn't decided I'm some how Okinawan as well."

"If she made you part of every group she hates you'd have to be _at least _ten different people," Hiro laughed.

"So _that's_ why I have such trouble choosing a favourite animal or colour!" Hermione giggled. "It makes so much sense now!"

The lot of them talked and Hermione could feel the mood lightening. She was in the hospital and in enough pain she didn't forget about Inyuama Rie, but she was happy to keep her second in her thoughts. Eventually everyone filed out, except for Saiyaka who nervously played with the ends of her braids. She looked up at Hermione with tears in her eyes.

"Sai-Saiya-chan?" Hermione choked.

"I'm so stupid!" she cried throwing her arms around Hermione.

"Ow!"

"Shit, sorry!" Saiyaka adjusted her glasses. "I just-I-erm-" she sighed. "It was hard for me to accept that you like girls too, but not me. But I-Hermi-chan, you're probably my closest friend. I love Hiro and the lot of them, I do, but you're my closest friend. And I wasted one week out of four we actually get to spend together being mad at you for something you can't help. I just- I like being your friend. And if you never feel the way I do, I still value that."

"Hey," Hermione took Saiyaka's hand. "You tried to comfort me when Inyuama started that rumour about me being a Korean box baby. I feel stupid for telling you off."

"It was pretty stupid," Saiyaka smiled and wiped her eyes under her glasses.

"It was."

"Oh!" Saiyaka summoned Hermione's instant messaging book. "So your father doesn't ask you get sent back, in a matchbox or whole."

* * *

_Everything's going well,_ Hermione wrote when asked how things were, remembering her father's aversion to the word 'fine'.

_Your handwriting's very different. _He wrote back almost instantly.

_I was going to get into that. I broke my right arm. Saiyaka's cat got stuck in a tree and I volunteered to get her out. Long and painfully stupid story short; I fell out of the tree and broke my arm. I'm fine, Momo, the cat, is fine. I'll be back out in the morning. Pride is more wounded than anything._

Hermione liked cats and her father was ready to believe she was an idiot. She hoped he would buy it. She had been telling little lies like this all year and kept them stock piled in her brain. No racism, no bullying, no reason for him to request she come home. She painted a picture of a nigh idyllic school environment where her biggest problems were minor embarrassments that she felt safe divulging to her father.

_Merlin, Hermione,_ he wrote. _Two weeks speaking Japanese exclusively and you've already forgotten the definitions of 'fine' and 'well'. And a damn cat? You should know better. I'd ask what's wrong with you, but I imagine that'd be pointless. You're O.K? Was the break bad?_

_Bad enough to stay the night, good enough to have full range of motion by the morning._

_Very well,_ he wrote. _Classes and club activity going well then?_

_Same as yesterday, Dad, _Hermione wrote. _So yes, they're going well._

_The cheek, Hermione Elizabeth. _She could hear his voice in her head at that one.

_Sorry. Things are well with you?_

_Indeed they are, _he wrote.

There was a long pause, it was noon and she imagined he got distracted by an owl or two.

_What's this about a detention? You were expected to be on your best behaviour! Have you any idea how poorly this reflects on British wizards? And you've failed to tell me this a week ago because...? Jesus, Hermione. You were raised better than this!  
_

_Fuck! _Hermione thought. Gaijin students apparently got letters home for anything. She thought of her reply and prayed she wouldn't be sent home. How much did the letter say? Did Tosaka, Kaname or Yamato send it? Was she painted as the instigator? She sighed and penned a palatable version of the truth. Inyuama was a bully and she let her get under her skin, it was the only detention she received, she'd been following the rules and avoiding the girl where possible.

_That account seems accurate, _he wrote. _Continue to avoid this girl. If she continues to bother you I suggest you don't verbally attack her in class. It won't end well for you. I imagine you can think of other solutions to your problem. I'll let you go. I expect you to behave yourself_ _going forward. I would appreciate it if you stopped omitting details as well. Get some rest. Stay out of trees. I'll write to you tomorrow. Love you.__  
_

_Write to you tomorrow, _she replied. _I'll be more forward with you and careful about my behaviour. Love you, Dad. Goodnight.  
_

* * *

Hermione found it easier than she expected to avoid Inyuama Rie for the rest of the month. However, the rumours she started followed Hermione with a vengeance. She had no clue how willing the student body was to cling to rumours about one gaijin girl. Every now and then, she would hear girls in the toilet or common room giggling and Inyuama would smirk. Hermione won the battle but Inyuama won the war.

A war Hermione was glad to put behind her for another year when the students changed into summer muggle clothes and gathered in their chosen groups to be ferried to the nearby island. Hermione, of course, didn't care for the actual ferrying part, but soon they were assigned their camp in the bamboo forest and the excitement that filled Hermione on her first night returned.

Hiro, Kaori, Saiyaka, Miyuki, Anya, Toshio, Sam and Hermione made their way through the cloying heat and thick bamboo forest to their campsite. Hermione basked in the golden light seeping through the gaps of the green leafy canopy. She had no idea how tall bamboo could grow before this moment, having never ventured into the forest surrounding Mahoukatoro. She felt so small, but in a good way. The scent of bamboo (bamboo had a scent!) blew on the salt breeze blew on the salt breeze as they climbed. A stream nearby trickled down the gentle slope, she could hear it with an assortment of birds singing overhead.

"This is beautiful," Hermione breathed-part from amazement, part from the hike.

"It really is," Anya agreed, for once as amazed as Hermione. "I can't wait till the blossoming!"

The clearing chosen was close enough to the cliff that the ocean could be heard far below them, but surrounded by foliage. An unlit circular fire pit sat in the centre with ten smooth rocks arranged around it. They erected the tents, one for the girls and one for the boys, and sat around the firepit for a packed lunch and tea, basking in the afternoon sun.

"So little oversight!" Miyuki squealed collapsing onto the lush grass. "This weekend is going to be so much fun!When do the teachers check on us again?"

"After sunset," Kaori said finishing her last onigiri. "Goes without saying, they're expecting us to stay at the campsite after dark. We'll be making performing the rituals tonight at sunset and collecting our group's flower in the morning."

"Until then," Anya took Kaori's hand. "We have time to enjoy ourselves. Let's explore!"

Kaori flushed a bright pink, something Hermione had never seen before. After collecting herself, Kaori followed Anya into the forest and the rest of them turned a bright pink for a moment before Miyuki spoke up.

"Have you heard of Yokai-Mannendake?" Miyuki asked dramatically raising her eyebrows.

_A bamboo yokai that feeds on lost travellers? You do love your scary stories, Miyuk-chan. _"No," Hermione lied taking in Miyuki's excited smile. "Is it scary?"

* * *

Crickets chirped and the forest was bathed in a brilliant orange glow, giving the yellow flower buds on the bamboo shoots a radiant halo. Hermione walked beside Saiyaka barefoot along the warm soil. Hiro waved his hands while speaking to them, and Hermione couldn't help but stare at the orange and green light playing in his hazel eyes. Like the flower buds, the sunset cast an orange glow around his messy black hair, giving him a halo too. Every now and then he would say something like : "right, Hermi-chan?" and shut his eyes with a beaming smile, exposing his micheivious canine.

Miyuki flushed pink and giggled at Hiro's jokes while, Toshio and Sam laughed loudly. Saiyaka every now and then would nudge Hermione with an encouraging weak smile. Which made Hermione turn as pink as Miyuki. Anya and Kaori led the lot of them, hands clasped together.

Hermione could listen to the birds and crickets sing forever, she could listen to Hiro talk forever. They made their way to the babbling stream, each with a tiny clay bowl in hand. Kaori would chose their bamboo tree before dark, and a more academic part of Hermione's heart fluttered with excitement.

The stream sparkled sapphire, orange, gold and pink, cutting through the rocky hills at a slow and certain pace under a canopy of bright green leaves and fluffy purple clouds. Mountain streams were far prettier in real life than she had pictured. The scene wasn't just beautiful, but there was something ancient and knowing about it. A serenity washed over Hermione as she knelt down to gather her bowl of water, feeling the fresh cold water run over her hands.

"Arigato," she whispered, setting the bowl down to clap her hands together and bow her head.

They wove through the darkening forest until they found an exceptionally tall bamboo with an inordinately wide stock, with several, narrower, leafy stalks shooting up from its expansive root system. The main stalk was covered in buds, but the younger parts of it faired well as well. If Hermione needed a reminder that this forest was made of deceptively fewer bamboo than it appeared, this tree was it. It stood proud in the sunset as Kaori knelt, pouring the water from her bowl over its roots.

The others followed suit, one after another. Hermione, being the youngest, went last. She rose and saw Hiro taking an uncharacteristic interest in the ritual. She wondered if she had fucked up some part of it, but his smile wasn't uncomfortable, but serene, and the light still danced happily in his hazel eyes.

"Everything okay, Hiro-kun?" she asked leaning in to examine him.

His face went pink and he averted his gaze, running a hand through his messy hair. "Erm, nothing, Hermi-chan. You-the forest is pretty, isn't it?"

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip. "It is, yeah."

* * *

"That was a disaster," Miyuki sighed in their tent.

"I thought it went well," Hermione said. "Did I do something wrong?"

Saiyaka sat beside Hermione and rolled her eyes. "She's not talking about the ritual. She's talking about Hiro."

Hermione clasped her hands in her lap. Was he staring because he liked her? She wanted to believe it, but it was too good to be true. What would she do if he did like her back? And then there was always the matter of-

"More specifically," Kaori said sitting dangerously close Hermione's other side, her dark brown eyes glinting in the candlelight. "My little brother was supposed to confess tonight. He's been going on about it all _year,_ saying something about the perfect time. You like him too, don't you?"

Kaori's unbound hair fell over her shoulders in glossy black waves and she blinked her beautiful eyes at her, sending Hermione's heart to her throat. Hermione shrank under her gaze for more than one reason.

Anya and Miyuki joined in crowding and staring Hermione down. A furious blush rose to her cheeks as she drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them. "Okay! Okay!" she cried. "He makes my little bisexual heart go doki-doki!" _But he's not the only one...Saiyaka said it was normal to have multiple crushes at our age. _"Is that what you want to hear?"

Anya burst into laughter. "That has to be the best coming out I've ever heard!"

"That has to be the best sentence I've heard," Saiyaka giggled. "Maybe you should say that to him?"

"I can't," Hermione muttered. "I'm a cocoon. Cocoons don't move or confess."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Miyuki lifted Hermione's face. "I've read enough shoujo manga, which Hiro likes too, mind, to know you don't take away a boy's confession."

Hermione shook having her suspicions all but confirmed. This was too good-good things didn't happen to Hermione. "But-"

"But nothing!" Miyuki tutted. "I'm _not_ listening to him pine over you for another year. 'why didn't I confess at the Matsuri, Miyuk-chan!' I'll go mad!"

The girls giggled and Hermione felt the full wieght of the night. Everyone knew about this but her! She had absolutely no control here, and Miyuki's plan to gather around the fire and 'let things happen' terrified her. Not only did she not have control, but she still harboured her doubts. A thousand voices told Hermione exactly why this was bound to go awry as Miyuki tied Hermione's forelocks into small dumplings with red ribbons. _You're broken, you'll always be broken. Do you think that poor boy deserves that?_

"You're beautiful," Saiyaka smiled gently.

"I pride myself in my work," Miyuki smirked. "Let's get the boys."

Hermione clasped her hands together, digging her nails deep into her flesh as she stared at the crackling fire. This was a dream come true..and a complete nightmare!

"Are you okay, Hermi-chan?" Saiyaka asked, taking her hands.

"I'm fine," she squeaked, not taking her eyes off the flames.

"It's okay if you're not," Saiyaka whispered.

"What if-" she choked. "I kept telling myself I imagined he liked me back-I think I founding it comforting and-I-erm-Saiya-chan, what if I ruin everything? What if I'm not what he thinks? What if we get together and he realizes I'm nothing but a disappointment?"

"And what if you get together and things are great?" Saiyaka blinked. "You won't know if you don't try. If it's not me, I'm glad it's him."

* * *

"I brought sake!" Miyuki sang.

"Miyuki!" Kaori gasped scandalized. "How did you even-?"

All eight of them gathered around the fire, telling stories and looking at the stars and reveiwing plans for August break. Hermione tried to feel normal, but her stomach did sommersaults and the voice that told her she was a burden to Hiro refused to shut up, even with him beside her. Liking Hiro was so much easier when it was a fantasy.

"I'll try some!" Hiro volunteered.

"You're fourteen!" Kaori scowled.

"Says the fifteen-year-old," He groaned. He then turned to Hermione with a mischievious grin, his whole face glowing in the orange light of the campfire and the lines formed along the sides of his eyes. God, he was beautiful! "Do you want to try too?"

_I need to be in control, _Hermione thought. But a little bit of sake, they only had the one bottle to split between them. Maybe Hermione could get just enough to silence the damned voice. "I'll try some."

"Is that a good idea?" Saiyaka whispered in her ear passing her the bottle.

"Yes."

Hermione poured an amount into Hiro's small clay bowl while Miyuki launched into yet another urban legend, abandoning tales of bamboo yokai for the likes of Kuchisakeonna and Teke Teke. Hiro took the bottle from Hermione and poured an amount into her bowl. The two nervously smiled at each other, and Hermione's heart thudded in her chest. They clinked the palm sized clay bowls gently and downed the cloudy, clear liquid in one swallow.

Hermione instantly regretted it. It burned all the way down from her tongue to her throat, her eyes watered and even her nostrils burned. She didn't even taste it, she just felt hot, and her insides stung as she coughed.

Hiro hadn't faired much better, his pale olive skin flushed a deep pink as tears sprang to his hazel eyes and he coughed into his elbow. "Oh, that's-grown-ups drink that for fun?! My nostrils are burning!"

Hermione couldn't help but burst into laughter and she buried her face. "I'm just glad I'm not the only one! Awful, isn't it?"

"I told you so," Kaori smirked.

The lot of them all broke into fits of laughter, those less brave imitating Hermione and Hiro's attempt to drink. It turned out Miyuki and Anya were the only ones to drink more than a sip (Sam and Toshio did not repeat Hermione and Hiro's mistake of downing the whole bowl), and Kaori's judgement subsided. They took turns telling scary stories from their homelands late into the night. The fire crackled, the crickets chirped and the warm breeze encircled them. Hermione felt the night was almost perfect.

Saiyaka was the first to turn in for the night, whispering "ganbatte" and disappearing into the tent.

_No pressure though, _Hermione thought, looking around.

"Kaori-chan," Anya whispered shaking Kaori.

Kaori lifted her head off Anya's shoulder and rubbed her eyes."Anya-chan?"

"I think we should get you to bed," Anya kissed the top of her head. "You kiddos don't stay up too late."

"Oyasumi!" the five of them chanted.

"Hermi-chan?" Hiro turned to her during another one of Miyuki's stories.

"Hiro-kun?" Hermione looked up at him.

Hiro gave a nervous smile and offered his hand to her. Once again, she admired his eyes in dancing orange glow, appreciating the rosy flush to his cheeks and gentle curve of his lips. His pale olive hand, palm up was soft and warm to the touch. Hiro had taken her hand before, but this felt different. Maybe it was because she knew he intended to confess, maybe it was the sake-no, there was no way Hermione drank enough, even if it was her first time drinking-maybe it was the way his smile finally silenced the damn voice.

The two rose and she let him lead her into the forest, closer to the sounds of the ocean. Hiro lit his wand and Hermione surrendered control to him. He knew where he was going, and the forest was safe, despite the stories Miyuki told.

She expected the forest at night to be foreboding, but in truth, it was gorgeous. The bamboo towered over them, but they could see the stars peaking through the leafy canopy, and everything had a calm, blue cast to it.

Serenity washed over Hermione as they stopped. Something small and yellow caught Hermione's eye in the light of Hiro's wand on one of the bamboo shutes.

"Hiro!" Hermione whispered, pointing. "I think this one's opened early!"

Yellow geometric petals spread out like a star among the ovular leaves, its centre and long stamen upturned to them. The scent wafted to them on the warm breeze and Hermione stared awestruck. "It's very pretty, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful," Hiro breathed.

These flowers only bloomed in summer every sixty years, and Hiro and Hermone were just lucky enough to have one bloom for them. The striking flower had no apprehensions, sitting completely open, its petals pointing in all directions, swaying gently in the breeze.

"Hermi-chan," Hiro turned her to face him.

There he was. Hiro smiled beautifully, lines forming around his hazel eyes as his hair blew in the gentle summer breeze. He sighed as he took both her hands in his and lowered her face to hers.

Hermione's heart didn't threaten to leap from her chest as their foreheads touched, but instead fluttered pleasantly while her nausea became simple butterflies. All her certainty that this would be a disaster melted away.

"I like you, Hermione," he whispered. "And I want-erm- I know you have to go back home, but-we-we should go out."

Hermione rose to her tiptoes and smiled. "I-erm-think I'd like that."

Hiro brought his mouth down to hers, cautiously brushing her lips before Hermione leaned into the kiss. She closed her eyes feeling the pleasant tingle move through out her body and her heart fluttered in her chest. Warmth and butterflies silenced the thousand voices in her head. It was every bit as beautiful and exhilarating as in the books she read. She wanted the moment to last forever.

Fate had other plans. Hermione lost her balance, falling forward. Hiro's teeth scraped her upper lip before there mouths separating and he fell back. The two fell to the bamboo roots cackling madly. Hiro beamed at her, and she was certain if there was enough light she could see the lines form around his eyes. The two stared at each other for a moment. Hiro flung his arms around her and kissed her again.

She didn't know how long they sat on the ground kissing, but eventually they separated.

"We should get back," Hermione sighed. "Before Toshio, Sam and Miyuki wake the others for a search party."

"When you're right, you're right," Hiro admitted lighting his wand and helping her to her feet. "Let's go."

"Wait," Hermione said lighting her own wand. "Isn't camp this way?"

* * *

They were lost. The wood was different at night, and Hermione should have accounted for that. Hermione and Hiro walked for what felt like hours before finding an opening. The opening wasn't what they hoped for. Instead they found themselves standing on a long cliff over looking the ocean. The exact opposite direction of their camp.

"Let's walk along, maybe we'll find another group's camp," Hiro ran his hand through his hair. "I'm so, so sorry."

"I couldn't remember how to get back to camp either," Hermione smiled taking his hand.

Hermione followed Hiro along the legnth of the cliff, trying to ignore that mere metres separated her from either the tangled depths of the forest or the sheer drop into the ocean. They talked to distract each other. First they ironed out their story, Hermione couldn't afford any more trouble and could only imagine her father's comments if he found out she followed a boy alone into a forest while abroad. They decided that Hermione fell asleep while around the fire, and unresponsive wondered into the forest. Hiro followed the sleepwalker, knowing you're not supposed to wake them, with the intent on bringing her back to camp when she woke.

She just hoped no one got lost in the woods looking for them. If they did, it was her fault...

"You'll let me know if anything does happen with the house elves?" Hermione asked as they walked hand in hand.. "I hate that I'm not going to be around long enough to see the outcome, if any."

Hiro nodded. "I don't expect anything more to happen, at least not for some time. But you know I'll write you- Is that a teacher?"

A tall figure stood at the edge of the cliff, a man, Hermione thought. What was he doing? The two cautiously approached and Hermione's glee vanished. The man stared into the three-quarter moon. He wore shabby robes- a wizard- and despite looking to be about her father's age, his light brown hair was flecked with grey and she thought he was balding. This was a troubled man, and not one of the teachers.

"Don't do it!" Hermione shouted before thinking.

The man looked back and noticed the two of them, examaning them quietly, his green eyes-tearless- carefully evaluating them. Hermione noted he looked old before his time.

"What are you-" he started. "I thought this island didn't have people on it."

"We're camping," Hiro said nervously. "The bamboo flowers tomorrow and we're here to see it."

"Ah," he smiled. "Yeah, that's one of the reasons I'm here too. Only once every sixty years? H-how many of you kids are there?"

"Loads," Hiro answered.

The man's mouth twisted uncomfortably. Hermione did believe he wanted to see the bamboo blossoms, but she also thought there was a reason he wanted this island to be without human life. Hell of a way to go...

"If you need help," Hermione clung to Hiro's hand. "We can get you it. I-erm-I don't know what you're going through-but-erm-I-erm-please don't jump!"

"Jump?" the man scoffed. "I was just enjoying the veiw, komusume. Sorry to have worried you both. I did think I was alone."

A camp was visible closer to the tree-line, and it seemed Hermione misunderstood a lot. A bedroll lay unfurled by an unlit firepit with an open book face down over it. A closed trunk sat beside it with an empty, dirty bowl sitting on top of it.

"I'm researching Yokai-Mannandake," he explained. "That's all. You two should get back to your camp."

Hermione's face flushed furiously as it became more and more apparent that she had been very wrong about the man's intentions. She was relieved of coure, and something made her feel like he wasn't being entirely forward, but he had no intention to jump. It should have been obvious. Why would a British wizard bother coming all this way just to off himself?

_Stupid peice of shit..._

"Yessir," Hiro said bowing. "Let's go, Mi-chan."

Hiro and Hermione found their way back to camp before sunrise to a slumbering Miyuki, Sam and Toshio around a dying fire. They woke them up to head into their perspective tents and decided not to tell anyone about the mysterious British wizard who claimed to be studying Yokai-Mannandake.

_Mi-chan, _Hermione mused as she drifted into asleep. _I think I like it._

* * *

"Nee-chan!" Saiyaka hugged Hermione tightly. "I know you have a boyfriend now, but you'll remember to write, won't you?"

Saiyaka had recovered from Hermione's rejection fully, and adapted started calling her 'sister'-which is how Hermione thought of Saiyaka- so quickly it gave Hermione whiplash. Though she was happy the two could remain close while Hermione and Hiro were dating.

"Of course I will!" Hermione promised. "Every week, nee-chan!"

Hiro grinned at her in the brilliant afternoon sun, his messy hair blowing in the wind, lines forming around his beautiiful hazel eyes. "I'm going to miss you, Mi-chan."

Hiro lowered his face to hers and they kissed. They'd gotten much less awkward since the forest, navigating around their height difference in a way that didn't lead to the two of them falling over.

"I'll write once a week," she said before kissing him again. "I promise."

"Would it kill you two to do that alone?" Miyuki scoffed. "You don't see Kaori-chan and An-"

Anya and Kaori were indeed kissing each other goodbye as well. And though they weren't quite snogging, it did make Hiro and Hermione look very tame.

"Get together before the gaijin have to go!" Toshio ordered holding his camera. "We're going to remember this summer!"

"Toshio-kun!" Saiyaka groaned as he squeezed her next to Hermione and Hiro.

"Toshio-chan!" Sam joined in as he was squeezed onto Hiro's otherside. "You're always taking pictures. You won't even be in this one! I-"

He was cut off by Toshio yelling instructions to Anya and Kaori to squeeze in behind them. Sam was proven wrong as Toshio leaned in over his shoulder holding the camera at arms legnth, and Miyuki leapt in centre front of the group holding two fingers up and beaming. The tight cluster buckled in together as Toshio snapped pictures with a teetering camera.

Hermione didn't know which click and flash it happened on, but the lot of them crashed into the soft grass together in a tangle of limbs, each howling with laughter. Hermione sat among her friends, holding Hiro's hand and knew that no matter how the picture turned out, they would all remember this summer for the rest of their lives.


	38. B3: Ch1 : A Frigid Welcome

Severus barely recognized his own daughter when he collected her from a pick-up location in Tokyo. Hermione stood in a throng of Japanese children, a petite blond girl around sixteen and a tall, thin dark-haired and skinned boy, howling with laughter. He recognized the Yamato siblings, the others he could only guess at their identities by names Hermione gave him before.

"Hi, Dad," she waved after separating from the group.

Hermione stood differently, straighter, he thought. She had bothered to tie her hair out of her face and he noticed her skin wasn't only darker, but freckles splashed across her rosy nose and cheeks. How had he never noticed she freckled before? There was a gleam in her brown eyes that he'd never before noticed and a damn near spring in her step as she turned back to wave goodbye. A far cry from the withering wall flower he somehow managed to raise. He hoped the changes were permanent.

He drew her into his arms and noticed that she had grown taller as well, her head level with his sternum. He remembered that she was nearly thirteen with a sudden pang. It didn't seem so long ago that she barely cleared his knees and needed to be carried when confronted with stairs. It was as if he blinked and the baby in his arms grew overnight.

_Don't be so dramatic, she is till so _very _far from grown._ He thought running a hand over the top of her head. "Are you ready to come home?"

"Oh, well, if it's optional..." Hermione teased.

"It's not," he mussed her hair. "I'm not spending another month with no one but that damned owl. I suspect you were right about him, very judgemental."

"I suppose I should wait till you're no longer my legal guardian before saying I 'told you so'?"

"Indeed, I suppose so."

The two shared a laugh and he tried to put aside the reality for a few brief moments before they returned to Britain. He hoped again that the changes he'd observed in her, how she carried herself and the gleam in her eye, wouldn't be undone. If it was, this time around he knew exactly who to blame.

* * *

"This never does get old, Hermione," her father sighed examining her. "Are you okay?"

The two of them had apparated in an almost empty pub run by a tall, old man with a face similar to Dumbledore's, though with a straight nose and permanent scowl. Hermione wondered why they hadn't simply apparated into a street. It was around five in Tokyo, which she thought should have meant it was morning here. The morning fog she spied through the window was much, much thicker than usual. And it was freezing. Both of these things Hermione noticed only after she emerged from a toilet after being sick. If he was frustrated with it, how the hell did he think she felt?

"Yessir," she nodded rubbing her arms.

"Cold?" he asked placing a hand on her head.

"Freezing," she admitted.

Hermione took in the site, two sombre older men were deep into their cups as the barman clutched a cloak about his shoulders, shivering between drinks and casting a weary eye out the window. The cold, apparating in a building, the fog. Something was wrong.

"Dad," she wrung her hands together. "What's going on?"

"You've heard of dementors before, yes?" he said.

"I've read a bit about them," Hermione bit her lip.

Awful beings that literally fed off the misery of others and had the ability to suck the very soul from a person. The very thought of them made Hermione's stomach churned. She read more than a little bit about them. She was disgusted and compelled to know more. She'd even read accounts of people who had simply been around them. Some reported feeling trapped in a dark hole, a waning light just out of reach and flickering until it was extinguished. They thought they'd never be happy again. Hermione had felt that on her own, and she didn't want to think of how it would affect her...

Her father's grim expression told her why he was bringing them up. They were in Hogsmede...

"That makes things easier to explain," he said. "There are dementors combing the village. They should stay away, but you need be prepared if they approach. They can make people relive their worst memories, exploit thoughts and insecurities to drain them. It's extremely dangerous, especially for you. You're not exactly the picture of stability."

_I'm back in the country for five minutes and you're already calling me mad?! _Hermione thought but bit her lip. He wasn't wrong and she couldn't really blame him. She nervously wrung her hands and nodded.

"My point," he said, his expression softening and resting his hand on her head. "Is that you should know exactly what you're walking into and why you're vulnerable. We're going to walk out of here and you are going to are perhaps going to hear things. It's imperative that you ignore these things and keep your eyes forward. Am I understood?"

"Why are a group of creatures that prey on the mentally ill stalking the village?" she asked.

It didn't make sense. She didn't agree with the use of them at all, but even the arses at the ministry wouldn't be so foolish as to let them loose upon the only all-wizarding settlement in Britain.

Her father sighed. "I said you were vulnerable, not mad."

_But I'm not exactly the picture of stability either,_ she thought digging her nails into her hands. "I didn't ask that," she said in a small voice.

"The tone, Hermione Elizabeth," he groaned, folding his arms over his chest.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"There was an escape of a very dangerous individual from Azkaban, named Sirius Black. Have you read anything about him?"

His name came up very frequently in the files her father made her read the summer before her first year. But juvenile pranks, no matter how traumatic to the recipient, was not what landed him in Azkaban. His name came up in the_ Prophet_ in the archives, Hermione stumbled across it once or twice, but she couldn't remember the context. It had been so long ago, and Hermione come across all sorts of names when she and the others re-ordered the archives. She closed her mind and wracked her memory. She had a good memory if she read it...

"I'll refresh your memory then," he said leaning in close. "Sirius Black is a vile and inordinately cruel man responsible for the deaths of at least fifteen people. Twelve years in prison and he's broken free. We believe he's after Potter, which is why we have dementors combing the area."

A serial or mass murder was after Harry? Hermione swallowed and wondered if he knew there was such a dangerous man after him. How much went on this summer while she was off looking at flowers and kissing boys? _That's not fair! You have no control over-life's not fair...Jesus, you stupid girl, why do you do this to yourself? _

"When did he escape?" she asked.

"I believe two days ago," he cupped her face in his hands and a cross between fear and anger came over his face. "And this _extremely _important. He was cruel long before he became a murderer, and I can only imagine what he's capable of after twelve years in Azkaban. I need you to think about that, have that at the forefront of your mind next time Potter drags you out on one of his little misadventures. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Hermione nodded.

The two left the building with a nod to the barman and entered the thick, cold fog.

"Stay close, love," he said.

Hermione didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Her father held her hand in a deathgrip, as if she'd fall away if he let go in the slightest, and nearly dragged her behind him as he marched forward. For a moment she thought she enjoyed the thirty days overseas, not because of Hiro and her friends, but because of the freedom from his suffocating nature.

There were extenuating circumstances, sure, but this was always his way. He had a talent for demanding that she do things herself while simultaneously stomping on her autonomy. Of infantilising her and at the same time demanding maturity from her. She didn't know why, but following him in the dense, freezing fog, she felt a sudden sense of clarity. She'd come to understand the paradoxical nature that she had been raised with. Hermione was somehow always a victim and yet everything was her fault. She didn't trust him, or anyone. She didn't trust that anyone could simply see her as enough as-did he do that to her? _Do I resent my father...?_

_You're an ungrateful daughter and you don't deserve half the patience he gives you. You're the way you are because of you and no one else. _

_Dad said I would hear voices..._

_He only raised you, nursed you back to health, taught you, comforted you and supported you. You burden him and you resent him for it? You stupid little girl, what is _wrong _with you? Impetuous, insufferable child..._

Hermione tried to shut the voices out, but they were relentless. And they weren't all the usual voice that knocked around inside her head.

_You wanted to be told when you were being a bitch?_ Ron's voice shouted. _Well there hasn't been a time you haven't been one since we met! __No wonder no one can stand her! She's a bloody nightmare, honestly! I swear she's actually worse than Snape! I'm sure she's noticed she hasn't got any friends! Were you dropped on the head as a baby? I don't know why you bother with that one, mate._

_What the hell, Hermione?! _Harry and Ron cried, and Hermione remembered Harry bleeding over his eye after she'd scratched him.

Harry's voice spoke again. _I need your help, but I reckon you need someone else's. _

_What do you want? _O'Malley sneered. _Did you just figure out that being seen within three metres of you is social suicide?_

_See, your father was right about you...obsessive, nervous, and freezing when you don't have complete control. Failure! Useless!_

_I thought you were supposed to be the smart one? You're mental, broken, _Ginny-Riddle taunted. _All you are is what you can do for others, and you're completely useless!  
_

Hermione grew colder, weaker as she tried to resist the spiral that she so often let herself go down. It grew harder to ignore them as everything everyone close to her had ever said to confirm her suspicions that she was nothing rang in her head. She half hoped that it would be Lavender and the other girls 'ming-ming-ming-ing' at her, walking back from the baths naked because Lavender stole her clothes, the pain of being transfigured or any other indignity suffered by the likes of bullies. No, it was her father and her friends that she heard. Her uncomfortable rage and resentment, the crippling disappointment. The crushing dread...she had been so happy in the bamboo forest with Hiro...she wondered if it was real...a dream...not that it mattered, she would never be that happy again.

_The forest..._ the air left her lungs and blood froze in her veins as she remembered the ill-looking British wizard on the cliff. _What if he_ did _jump, and just waited till after we left? It's possible..._

* * *

"I thought you had put your foot down on the matter of dementors on the bloody platform!" her father shouted.

"And I did," Dumbledore's voice said, edged with impatience.

Hermione stirred gently, lifting herself into a sitting position before rubbing her eyes. She was in a _very _familiar setting. If she could go one damn year without winding up in the hospital wing...

"Hermione," her father sighed with relief at her side and threw an arm around her shoulders. "How are you feeling, love?"

_Pathetic, useless, like all the things you and so many others said I was,_ she thought but forced a smile. "I'm fine, Dad." _That poor man...please let me have done the right thing..._

"Dementors!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. "The minister setting up to be with people who are already so delicate!"

_Delicate's a nicer word for frail...shut up! _"I'm fine."

"Never believe her when she says that," her father sighed rising to let Pomfrey examine her. "You know how frail she is"

_Love you too, Dad, _she thought bitterly.

"Not quite the welcome back we'd hoped for, Hermione," Dumbledore smiled. "But I assure you, it won't be an issue in the future. You're perfectly safe while on the grounds."

That was a change from the last thing he said to her. It seemed all grown-ups had the ability to tell her she was a disappointment and act like it never happened. And Dumbledore blamed her for being cynical? _That was months ago. It's not his fault you stock-pile every bad thing said to and about you..._

Then a nastier, angrier voice in her head spoke. _It's your father's fault. _

"I'm glad you're okay," Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses at her. "I do hope you get better. A word, Severus?"

"Yes, headmaster," he nodded before turning to Hermione. "Follow all of Madam Pomfrey's orders. I'll be back."

Hermione watched the two men leave and wondered if she'd left her sanity in Japan...

_This never get old, Hermione..._It was the exasperated disappointment in his voice after she'd been sick. She still couldn't alongside apparate without feeling sick. That tone...she felt it leave her as she remembered everything.

The man had never failed at anything, never fucked up the way she had...he couldn't know how hard it was to live knowing all she was was a disappointment.

* * *

"That was a disaster," Dumbledore said.

"Understatement of the bloody millennium," Severus growled. "She's not been in the country an hour and already wound up in the hospital. Fuck...the sooner those _things _find that son of a bitch the better."

Dumbledore knit his white eyebrows and peered over his half-moon glasses with that damned knowing twinkle in his blue eyes. "Do you truly wish for that man to lose his soul?"

"Are you honestly judging me for that?" he scoffed. "You _know _what that man is capable of. We'll just forget that he spent years tormenting those less fortunate him as a solution to boredom; and we'll forget that he thought feeding another humanbeing to a werewolf was simply a harmless little bit of mischeif, shall we?"

"Severus," Dumbledore sighed.

"He told the Dark Lord where to find the Potters. Ratted out his best friend and they're dead as a result. "

"Does that sound familiar?" he asked. "Don't forget that you are guilty of a similar crime."

Severus's blood froze in his veins and he swallowed. It was true. If it wasn't for him...if he hadn't spied on Trelawney that night... Lily would be alive. Even after all this time it tormented him. She was dead and it was his fault. Begging Voldemort to spare her made no difference and never would have. Now that he had Hermione he understood that. If someone offered to spare him for his daughter...he would offer himself without a second thought.

He imagined Lily at his age now, the age she was supposed to be, with his job (at least when she was sixteen, the job of Potions Master was something she wanted, but that could have changed), spoiling her brat of a son, living a blissfully dull and unhindered life. He wondered if she would have had the same apprehensions toward his daughter that he had toward her son.

_That man was a bitter, cruel arse full of hate, Harry, and he probably raised his daughter the same... _Perhaps he had to rethink judging the child for the sins of the father...but Potter was so like his father...

Another pang hit with a realization came over him. If Lily were alive she would have no such opinions of Hermione. Hermione wouldn't be his daughter if he hadn't hid among muggle England with the hope of catching a glimpse of her. To somehow apologize. If Lily and her family never went into hiding he would never have rented that tiny apartment next to the young couple with the sick, magical baby. If he never betrayed Lily, she would be with the muggles-if she were alive. It pained him to think of how the best-and he often thought only-good part of his life, the only good decision he had ever made was inextricably linked to the worst decision he had ever made.

Why did he do it? Lily shouldn't have had to die for Hermione to have a half-way capable parent-and he just barely met that criteria. So why?

If it wasn't the Potters he went after, if Voldemort never heard the prophecy, would he still be working on the right side? Or would he have continued to operate as Death Eater. Trying so hard to work his way up in ranks because that was the only way he could feel powerful, only way he could feel safe. And as much as it sickened him to admit, his heart fluttered every time a higher up, especially Voldemort, expressed approval. Deep down there was still that little boy who had never been good enough for his venomous mother-who undercut any achievement and expressed her martyrdom for a disappointment- or his physically violent father. Because in his twenties he still desperately searched for sources of parental approval in all the wrong places.

"I didn't murder thirteen people afterwards," he said coolly.

"I suppose you didn't," Dumbledore sighed, voice dripping with cold judgement.

_Not murdering thirteen people, well, aren't you a fucking saint? That certainly makes up for facilitating the murder of the only friend you ever had! Your little girl must be so proud! You stupid piece of shit._

"I don't imagine you called me here to discuss my views on the treatment a mass murderer?"

"No," Dumbledore said. "Though I don't imagine _you _think one has to be a saint to be afforded basic human rights?"

Severus didn't know why it came to him, but he couldn't help but chuckle. "Hermione would accuse you of being exclusionary by calling them 'human rights'."

"Ah, yes," he smiled faintly. "Not a saint either, but she certainly tries, doesn't she?"

"The girl does have a martyr complex roughly the size of Africa," he admitted. "Why am I here?"

Dumbledore sighed and his muscles tensed. "There is no good way to tell you this, Severus, but I came to a decision on the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and you're not going to like it, I'm afraid."

"I see," he said. "Did you invite Lockhart back? I for one think he might be better now that he's lost his memory."

"Heavens no, Severus," Dumbledore chuckled. "Though I'm happy to see you're not upset it's not you."

"I thought I lost my daughter," he said. "I still see her bleeding out now and then. It-it puts things in perspective. You know if I had the last thing I would have told her was a lie? After telling her she was a little idiot in the way of adults...Being precious about the subject I teach seems a bit pathetic after that."

"I see," he mused. "Well I certainly hope you two have worked things out then."

_You're not exactly the picture of stability...why the hell did I say that?_ "She seemed happy enough before the incident. You're stalling."

"It's Remus Lupin, Severus," he said quickly.

"_WHAT?!" _he coughed. "That man-he-_why?"_

"He's more than qualified and he's done exceptional work with spirits in East Asia over the past five years. He's recently done work with Yokai-"

"My daughter's the Japan fetishist, not me," he snarled. "To hire that man is horribly irresponsible! He's a fucking werewolf!"

"I'm more than aware of that fact, Severus," he said, now exasperated. "And we both know something that can mitigate that fact, don't we?"

"Wolfsbane potion," he groaned. "A very new and very particular treatment I believe."

"It's passed testing, Severus, and I know you would handle it with the utmost care."

He was expected to treat one of his tormentors? The man nearly killed him when they were sixteen. And before that he made tried his damnedest to ensure he wouldn't mind it if he did. The man was a monster both figuratively and literally. And friends with Sirius Black. Treat his condition, trust him not to turn to his old friend, trust him with his daughter...

He wasn't by far the worst of them...he was complicit though...except what he was most upset about.

"His condition isn't his fault. I know that," he said slowly. "But I still-he still-" he choked, tripping over his words. "Why the hell should I let my daughter anywhere near him?"

"Because people change and mature. You did."

"If he's still in contact with his old mate the students, and Potter in particular, are in very real danger. I don't-" he breathed. "I can only imagine what that man is capable of after twelve years in prison. You think Lupin kept Black in line, it's wrong. Black could always appeal to Lupin. That's what he always did, appeal to some poor soul's desperation for approval or connection- and if he does that now-if he-if-" he took a breath again. "If I find Black anywhere near my daughter we won't be having a conversation about the ethics of the dementor's kiss. Both men will only wish for something so merciful." _That's not an impossible threat to make good on...but those men are dead if she gets hurt.  
_

"I half-hoped raising a child would have aided in your reformation," Dumbledore sighed. "But I suppose this is a conversation we had before."

"I imagine you also expect my silence," he folded his arms over his chest and collected himself.

"Of course," he said.

"I get to tell her," Severus said. "You want to endanger other people's children, fine. I'm not sending mine in blind."

Dumbledore shot him a withering gaze over his glasses. What made his stomach churn? The perceived disgust or disappointment? There was a very tense silence that weighed heavily on the two men. Dumbledore spoke with a note of finality: "I can't control what you say to your daughter, but I expect you will respect my wishes. It is the very least you can do."

The least he could do was nothing. But whatever force possessed him, he agreed.

* * *

A scream pierced the night with a peel of thunder and Severus leapt to his feet with his wand ready. He ran the short distance to Hermione's room to find her bed empty.

That scream, the empty bed. It was hailing and thundering, she couldn't be outside in that, could she? A tightness formed in his chest as he wondered where his child had run off to. He didn't imagine that scream. _She's alright. She has to be alright...  
_

He started to search the room when two large eyes reflected the light of his wand from under the bed. He lowered himself down to see his daughter curled up like a frightened cat.

"For the love of all that is holy, get out from under there, now!" he barked. "Waking the entire castle and then cowering under the bed. What is _wrong _with you?"

The tiny girl crawled out from under the bed and stood up, wringing her hands in front of her and staring at her bare feet and hiding behind her bushy hair. She let out a tiny series of squeaks that he couldn't make heads or tails of in either of the languages they spoke.

"I'm waiting, Hermione Elizabeth," he folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. "You are far too old for this nonsense."

"S-sorry, Daddy," she sobbed.

_She was frightened and you... made her cry... _"Hermione," he knelt down to her eye level and took her little hands in his, softening his voice. "You're six (_barely_) now, doesn't that seem a bit big to be afraid of a silly little storm?"

Hermione sniffed and gave a stiff nod.

"We're underground," he explained pointing to the small window close to the roof. "That's why your window is so tiny. The storm can't hurt us."

Hermione again nodded, but dug her nails into her hands.

Severus sighed and lifted her into her bed. "This is what we're going to do," he instructed, covering her and using his thumbs to wipe her tears. "When the sky lights up we're going to count until we hear the thunder. For every five seconds, it'll be a mile away. Okay?"

Lightning lit up the sky as if on cue.

"One," they counted together. "Two, Thr-"

The thunder roared through the sky and his plan back-fired as the six-year-old girl gave a terrified squeak. "That means it's really close!"

"Yes, little girl," he groaned. "That is how I said it works."

"Sorry, Daddy," she whimpered.

_"I'm sorry, Daddy," a four-year-old Severus wept._

_"Waking the whole damn town," Tobias Snape spat. "Quit your whinging or I'll give you something to cry about! Jesus Christ!" he lifted his swollen hand to examine it. "The hell did you do to me, you little shite?!"_

_"He's just a baby, Tobias," Eileen approached, the lightning flashed and illuminated her bruised face. "I'll handle it, I always do."_

_Tobias stormed off shouting curses to contend with the thunder roaring outside._

_"Oh, my sweet darling boy," Eileen cooed. "Let's crawl into bed and I'll teach you how to tell how close the storm is and-Merlin, why is everything wet? Did you-For fuck's sake, Severus, it's bad enough your father has this damn house reeking of beer and failure and you have to add piss into the mix? What is _wrong _with you?"_

"It's fine, love," he sighed. "Let's see if it moved, shall we?"

"One," they counted together again. "Two, three-"

Thunder roared outside once more. Hermione let out another horrified squeak before breaking into sobs.

"It's alright, love," he drew her into his arms and pat her head. "I'm here. I'm here."

"You could have handled that better, Sev."

Severus turned from the sleeping girl to find Lily staring at him, lightning flashing in her green eyes. Once again, he had been dreaming of a memory he wished he could change. And once again the version of Lily constructed from his guilt relished in tormenting him. _You deserve this, you stupid piece of shit._

"It's funny," Lily sat on Hermione's other side, brushing her cheek. "You've been wracking your shite brains for two days now wondering what little Hermione suffered that was so traumatic to have fainted because two dementors were simply nearby, and the answers are all within your own memories."

"Hermione was abducted by someone wearing her friend's face." he said. "I would venture to say that's traumatic. If not that, her mother-"

"You're pathetic, Severus," Lily sighed. "You shamed a frightened six-year-old. Don't you think she's learned from heart-to-hearts like this? How much do you think she's internalized? You were so happy to see your little rosy cheeked girl with a spring in her step and it disappeared the _moment _you brought her home. Say, didn't that happen last summer too? Ever think the problem was you, not the bloody dementors?"

"Lily," he choked. "It's not like that-I would never hurt her-"

"But you _have _hurt me, Daddy," six-year-old Hermione stirred. "I was never good enough. You never approved of anything, and now I'm going to look for it in the worst places. I'm never going to have a healthy relationship, I'm never going to be comfortable in my own skin. I'm broken and it's all your fault!"

"No, love," he swallowed. "That-"

"You really are pathetic, Snivellius," said a gaunt, pale man with unkempt black hair and facial hair he recognized from the _Prophet _and...else where. "Come here, little one. It's alright, there's no way I can hurt you as much as he has."

_"Get the fuck away from my baby, Black!_" he cried.

Black already had Hermione in his arms, smiling wolfishly at the little girl. "You're an adorable little hostage, aren't you? I'm going to convince you to hear me out. It's approval you crave, isn't it? It'll be easier to use you to get to Harry. If you survive you'll never live with the guilt."

Severus awoke with a gasp, clutching his chest. He knew it was all a dream, but the terror was very real. Hermione had been used to get to Potter before, would Black come to the same conclusion? He didn't actually think Hermione could be appealed to by the likes of Sirius Black just because she craved approval. Hermione was always so god damn independent, she can't have...

_Because you were always so open about how your parents behaviour affected you? _Lily's voice scoffed in his head.

Thunder rolled somewhere over head. It seemed there was an actual storm raging in the present. Why not?

_You should check on her,_ Lily's voice said again._ She knows better than to come to you._

He did just that to see that she still had her lamp lit, and was stretched out on her stomach, pouring over a thick volume and taking notes.

"It's three o'clock in the morning, love," he observed.

"Sorry, Dad, it's-erm- six-o'clock Tokyo time," she sighed sitting up. "Did the light wake you?"

"No," he shook his head leaning in the door frame. "Went to make myself tea and noticed the light."

Hermione knit her eyebrows and bit her lip. "Are you feeling alright, Dad? You look-"

"Just one of those nights, love," he dismissed. "I gave you a sleeping draught to deal with the jetlag."

"You did," Hermione sighed looking away. "Erm-"

_Nightmares again, eh? _"Why don't you join me?"


	39. B3:Ch2: Patronus

Hermione found comfort in homework, when it didn't wrack her with anxiety. Being advanced two years meant she would be taking her OWLs at thirteen instead of fifteen. She wondered if that would make things more difficult for her. It was only two years, and she performed magic well enough if she focused.

_You're going to fail._

_No, stop this. You've made so much progress over the summer, found out so much about yourself, and Hiro even-_

_He's going to leave you. Why would he stay? Your own mother wouldn't. And it was so bad, your father thought lying about her being an alcoholic abandoning was gentler than the truth.  
_

_Hiro said he'd write me weekly, he cares about me. I'm not selfish for wanting to be happy. I-_

_Aren't exactly the picture of stability, are you?_

Hermione bit her lip and dug her nails into her hands. The voice had been more since she and Hiro got together. The dementors brought it back. She would silence this voice. _Focus on the work. Arithmancy is the determining of future events and inner truths through numbers of the Greek alphabet and key words. The foundation of any arithmancy procedure is the method used. Pythagorean Method is the most popular with the Greek alphabet assigned numbers 1-9._

_1-9, _she thought with relief. _Those are safe numbers. Three sets of three. I can do this. I have control._

As she suspected, arithmancy, at least by the book, was shaping to be her favourite subject. It was so ordered, predictable, consistent. Hermione felt something that she hadn't truly felt since the chamber, even when things were well. Control. She loved maths and numbers, she found something comforting about them. She never knew what would happen. She never knew if her father or friends would receive her with kindness or cruelty, nor what crime she had committed to earn that cruelty. But three sets of three always made nine.

"I thought I might find you here," her father said from behind her.

"Kuso!" she spat straightening the roll of parchment she was working on. _Why didn't I study in the passage way?_

"That happy to see me, eh?" he rested a hand on her head. "And I don't think I need to speak the language to know what that means."

_No, I have a system and you know this...I found out some of my anxieties were normal...Someone please tell me resenting one's parent is normal! _"Took me by surprise is all," she sighed. "I thought you had a staff meeting?"

"I did," he said. "They end. You've been here all day?"

"Only since eight or so," Hermione said.

"It's five," he said.

"Oh," she said slowly.

Where had the day gone? Sure, she'd gotten through her _Standard Book of Spells Grade 5, Practical Potioneering, _and started _Arithmancy: Interpreting the Past, Present and Future through Numbers._ For the first two books she even had her standard three notes paragraph. It was her practice since before her first year. She _knew _she would fail if she didn't do it. She couldn't say why. But wanted to dive into the archives and research Sirius Black. She had to know the full extent of his crimes. Perhaps she should have done that first...

"And you lost track of time because you hyper-focused," he sighed. "Are you still re-reading the same page until you can come up with at least three notes for it?"

_Paragraphs actually,_ she thought bitterly. _Oh, do you think I'm mad, Daddy? Ugh! Why am I so angry? He-I-ugh!_

"I'll take that as a yes," he set his hand on the top of her head. "I know we've discussed the sorts of damage this obsessive behaviour can cause. Love, you're still recovering from both the jetlag and, more importantly, the incident with the dementors. Giving into the compulsion to engage in that behaviour can be really harmful."

_It silences the voice..._

How did he not understand that after all this time? It was her own fucked up pathology and _she_ understood it. She would have the thought, 'you're going to fail, you're a failure' but if she wrote at least three notes per paragraph the thought would go away. But she knew how it would sound if she said any of that to him.

"I'm not trying to be critical," he sighed after a silence. "I'm worried."

"Dad, I'm fine," she said putting the last of her things in her bag. "The thing with the dementors, that was days go. Maybe you'd forgotten, but this is normal...for me."

"The ch-" he took in a deep breath. "I haven't forgotten anything. You just seemed better before you came back."

_Based on what? Lies I told you overseas or the five seconds you saw me before the dementors attacked? _"I have ups and downs, things were good that week. Is that not normal?" _It's normal. Tell me it's normal. Please, tell me it's normal, Dad. Tell me _I'm_ normal..._

He regarded her with that pitying gaze she dreaded so much. That familiar sadness lurked behind his black eyes, endowed with the knowledge that Hermione was _not _normal.

_Stand up straight, you stupid little girl, _she told herself. _Your father didn't raise a withering wall flower. Show him you're not broken._

"It is normal to an extent," he admitted. "And a girl your age-you're going to be experiencing _many_ complex and new emotions, I'm sure. The joys of being your age, I'm afraid. But even accounting for that, this is rather dramatic."

"Everything is fine," she sighed.

"Even so," he sighed, moving a lock of hair out of her face. "I want to talk to you. Walk with me."

Hermione followed him out of the library and onto the grounds. What did he want to talk to her about? Did he find out about Hiro? Her dating a boy half way across the world barely affected him, so it couldn't be that. Maybe he found out somehow that she was bi? He didn't seem homophobic, but she knew people reacted differently with their own children deviating from what they thought was normal. Or maybe it was any of the things that were actually wrong with her. Or what she'd failed to do.

_He had a camp set up. He didn't jump..._Hermione never considered the possibility he jumped before the dementors attacked. Now the thought jumped on her when she least expected it. _Some part of you had to consider it for the dementors to bring it out of you..._

The two of them walked along the lake shore and Hermione felt the last rays of golden sun light reflect off the water, and poke through the thick foliage, warming her skin. She understood why he brought her out here. The warm breeze, the late afternoon sun, the golden rays bouncing off the crisp blue water might have given her a sense of calm. If the British wizard didn't weigh so heavily on her mind.

"I know things have been less than ideal between us since you've started school," he said slowly. "I have made mistakes, you know that."

_Erasing my memory, lying to me about my mother...those aren't mistakes, Dad... _Hermione thought but turned to face him.

He looked troubled, it was always hard for him to admit he was wrong. He normally waited until after something catastrophic had happened. This was strange and Hermione was unsure how to navigate it. Was he-was he well?

"Are you okay, Dad?" she asked.

"I've just had a lot of time to think while you were away," he said resting a hand on her head. "I know I've already apologized (about some things, Hermione still hadn't confronted him about her invented mother.), but that doesn't mean you weren't affected beyond that point. And you're not wrong to be upset about damage already done. You've never been told that, I imagine."

No, no one ever told her that. She had always just assumed not forgiving someone after they apologised, harbouring resentment, made her a bad person. In truth Hermione did and thought a lot of things that she felt made her a bad person. An amoral fuck-up, it was hard to see herself as anything else. Save for the moments she could make herself useful. Or the brief moments of intimacy with Hiro, Saiyaka, or Luna...they could make her feel like something a little more than a fuck-up or a game piece soon to outlive her usefulness. In very brief moments, her father could make her feel that way, but it wasn't often.

"I know why you did what you did, Dad," Hermione said with a sympathetic smile. "And I forgave you a long time ago."

That was a lie. But she did care about him, and to look at his face, drained of what little colour it usually had, the uncomfortable twist of his mouth and the haunted look in his black eyes. Hermione was well acquainted with guilt, and she could set aside her anger to give him absolution. He needed it.

"I'm not looking for absolution, Hermione," he sighed. "Listen to me. I'm your father and nothing is going to change that. What you mean to me isn't predicated on your forgiveness. Nor is it predicated on you being a some kind of saint. People, as it turns out, love, are messy, imperfect creatures. I expect you're very aware of that by now."

"It's hard not to be," she bit her lip. _Where are you going with this?_ "I'm surrounded by people all day. I'm a person."

"Then you know that the idea of good people and bad people is an oversimplification. One that I believe hurts the people who hold those beliefs as much as the people who have made too many mistakes to ever fit under such a narrow description."

"I don't think you're a bad person, Dad," Hermione said.

"That's not what I-" he started but then sighed, drawing her into a hug. "You know, love," he said after a silence with a weak chuckle. "I'm terrified that once you're old enough to take interest in boys that you'll still not have outgrown that desire to tell people whatever you think they want to hear."

"Bold of you to assume I'll only like boys," Hermione teased happy to embrace the levity and testing the waters. _Or that I haven't started yet..._

"Indeed," he said, mussing her hair. "I suppose we'll figure that out in a few years' time, won't we?"

_Okay, I am_ definitely_ not telling him I'm already dating someone. _

* * *

"Security trolls will be posted along the entrance hall, the entrance to the dungeons, and on the roof starting August 20th," Dumbledore told Severus. "Remus will be joining us with the students on the train. The potion will be ready for the week of the full moon?"

"Yes, headmaster," he nodded. "It has to be attended daily, which is plenty of effort to put forward for-"

"A colleague that I expect you will treat with the utmost respect," Dumbledore peered at him over his glasses.

"But of course," he sighed. "Anything else I should know, sir?"

Dumbledore shook his head before looking to the direction of the sunset. "I don't imagine we want to be here when the dark comes, Severus."

"Very well," he replied.

Dumbledore mused a bit, stroking his long beard. "Anything of interest with you?"

Severus smirked at this. "You mean aside from the expectation I cater to a man who used to torment me? No, I don't imagine so, unless you find that both the Weasleys and Xenophilus Lovegood seem to think it appropriate to invite my child over the one month I have her to myself interesting."

"That might be good for her," Dumbledore mused. "She seems troubled."

How true that seemed. Hermione wandered the corridors like a ghost, performing 'fine' when she knew she was being observed. Was it the abduction? Did she simply miss her little friends back in Japan? _Ever think the problem is you and not the bloody dementors? _He thought maybe something happened in Japan and the encounter with the dementors resurfaced it, making her have to reprocess whatever the trauma was. That would explain why she seemed so different...but she proved difficult to talk to over the week. She wasn't defiant, just not forth-coming. There was something she was so thoroughly ashamed of. She wasn't ready to talk about it, and his attempt to reach out to her failed.

"Which is precisely why she should stay at her home with her family," he said. "Throwing her to the world now seems cruel. Not to mention the mass murderer prowling about freely? I'm not letting my little girl off these grounds until he's caught."

"Did it just get colder or am I getting older?" Dumbledore shivered.

No, they left the forest to a faint mist and darkness shrouding the grounds and it was most certainly colder. Was a storm coming in? Or-

"Dementors," both men breathed.

"I thought they were to be off the grounds!" Severus snarled before running to the lake where Hermione had been studying.

_I'm the one that suggested she spend some time outside...I thought she was safe, I thought a little bit of sun...I'm a damned fool!_

Sure enough, he found a single dementor floating over the lake, its faded black cloak reaching out in wispy tendrils, dangerously close to a now unconscious Hermione. Its gnarled, grey hands reached out to her. His heart pounded in his ears at the site of the cloaked, corpse like figure. Hermione, his baby...

_"Expecto Patronum!" _he cried.

A silver doe bounded around the small girl, staring down the hooded figure. She reared up before standing over Hermione like a mythical guardian.

The tendrils were interrupted by beams of silver light. An inhuman shriek filled the sky as the mist rolled in on itself, and the dementor retreated in trails of faded wisps, back across the lake.

"Hermione!" he cried, kneeling by her.

She laid amid open books on the grass, her breathing shaky, but she was breathing. Colour drained from her usually warm olive skin, and again it was cold to the touch. She wasn't Kissed, he was sure of that. But if he'd been later...

"Why are these things so interested in _her_?" he said, dismissing the doe and lifting his freezing daughter.

"They feed by creating misery, Severus," Dumbledore explained catching up to them. "An unwell teenager is like a beacon. I clearly didn't have the handle on this I thought. I'm speaking with the minister."

_Why are a group of creatures that feed on the mentally ill stalking the village? _"If _one _unwell teenager is a beacon how do you imagine they'll look at hundreds?"

"I'm going to fix this," he said with a cold edge to his voice. "If they can't respect the boundaries I set, they can send them back to Azkaban! I will not-she'll be okay. I swear, Severus, this will not happen again. To her or any other student."

"Can't we ward the barrier?" he asked.

"Don't you think we would have already if that were an option?" Dumbledore hissed as he marched into the castle.

"Say whatever you're about to, headmaster," Severus paced the length of the entrance to the hospital wing while he waited for word.

"A doe?"

"You have impeccable timing," he hissed.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Severus," he said quietly. "Not a conversation for when your daughter is in the hospital. I just found it-even after all this time?"

"Always," he whispered.

* * *

"Of course you can't make a patronus," her father sighed with a shrug. "It's well beyond OWL, and you're twelve. I'm a little worried you tried it unsupervised to be frank."

She nearly had her soul sucked from her and his concern was overexertion? What if he wasn't there when he was? What if- She didn't want to be a victim anymore..."I can't just wait around to be rescued, one of these days it's not going to happen."

"Is that your concern?" he set a hand on her head. "The headmaster assured me they will be off the grounds from now on. And he was so upset I'm inclined to believe him. Nothing's going to happen to you."

That wasn't the fucking point! Hermione was tired, she tried figuring it out on her own through books. That's how she figured out that she was supposed to use a patronus, but summoning it...she could barely produce wisps before getting weak. This particular conversation was only happening because he'd found her collapsed on the floor of their living quarters.

"You know I'd never let anything happen to you," he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You're not always going to be metres away and I'm not always going to be on the school grounds," she explained. "More happens here than what you allow to happen, and even if you somehow have perfect control over what happens here, what about when I'm in Hogsmede?"

Her father raised an eyebrow. "You must be mad if you think I'm letting _my _little girl traipse around the village unsupervised while that maniac is on the loose."

_Why am I not surprised? _Hermione clasped her hands together, digging her nails into the gaps between her fingers before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. _One, two, three.._. "That's not the point," she said evenly. "I'm not a child-"

"Not only are you still _very_ much a child," her father snapped. "But you're _my _child."

Hermione dug her nails deeper and took another deep breath. "My point is that I need to learn to be self-reliant. To _defend _myself. I thought you'd want that for _your_ child."

He stared at her a moment, his face once more impassible. Whatever vulnerability he decided to show the previous week was gone. Though he at least seemed at a loss for words. He couldn't say no to that, it actively contradicted everything he'd wanted for her. She just needed to wait for him to be done whatever outburst he was about to have in response to her words.

_One, two, three..._

Still nothing as he brought a hand to his mouth, pensively stroking his face. "I hate that the tracer doesn't work on the grounds. You're going to keep trying to do it on your own if I say 'no' aren't you?"

"Yes," she drew herself to her full height.

"Fine," he sighed. "We start tomorrow after breakfast. Which I expect you to eat more than a third of. Yes?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

* * *

"Expecto Patronum," Hermione waved her wand and three faint silver wisps vanished as soon as they appeared.

What did he expect from the unwell twelve-year-old? The presence of the dementors on the school grounds undid whatever progress she made abroad. Dementors and whatever shame she carried with her.

"You need to concentrate," Severus explained straightening her wand arm. "Think of something that makes you truly happy, hold that thought. Erase everything else from your mind. Close your eyes. Breathe."

Hermione followed his instructions to the letter, closing her eyes and taking a controlled breath, but the tension in her muscles and white-knuckled grip on her wand remained. She didn't erase all those thoughts that kept swirling about in her head. She was normally better than this when it came to focus, why was she so preoccupied now? Not that she had the energy to produce anything substantial, but the wisps should have been more visible, and stayed longer than a second.

_She's never seen it successfully cast,_ Severus took out his own wand.

A silver doe stood before Hermione, lowering her head to his daughter's eye level, blinking at her. Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at the silver doe in awe. She reached out her hand, stopping herself just short of her snout. It seemed whatever serenity and awe washed over her at the proximity of a patronus, she still knew to be cautious.

"Is that-" she breathed.

"My patronus," he explained leaning on the table. "You won't be able to make a corporeal one for some years yet. You're still too young to have a handle on that, but I know how you like to break things down to their elements from the whole."

"If that's the case," Hermione bit her lip and fidgeted with her wand before turning to him. "C-can I-erm- ask what-erm-do you think about?"

He was certain she had plenty of memories and thoughts to chose from. Why did she have to ask him? What help could that possibly give her? He had no interest in baring his past to her. It wasn't as if he was completely emotionally unavailable to her, he was entitled to his secrets and telling Hermione about Lily would give her all of them.

Hermione looked up at him for a moment before averting her gaze to the ground. "Sorry! Forget I asked! It's fine!"

His daughter stood before him, shrinking under her mountain of bushy hair, trying to sink into the floor as if she wanted him to forget much more than, what he had to admit was, an innocent question asked by a daughter to her father. Hermione shouldn't have felt so guilty for that, and it seemed something in his expression and silence told her she should.

The doe moved to nuzzle against Hermione's cheek. She smiled and straightened out of her formally withdrawn posture, looking up at him rather than the doe. Her eyes, large and expressive as always, pleading for answers he couldn't give her.

"You were always a difficult child," Severus sighed, dismissing his patronus.

"Erm," Hermione nervously wrung her hands. "Beg pardon, sir?"

"Perhaps 'difficult' is a strong word," he admitted placing a hand on her head. "When you were a baby, ten-months-old, you were not well. I know I've told you how ill you were back then, but I believe that's all I've said. For weeks, you cried and coughed and wheezed to no avail. One day, I remember it so well, you were lying on your side and crying. Wailing like a banshee when you could get the air. I picked you up, and you produced a stinging hex. I thought it was a bee at the time, it was summer and the window was open, you see. But no, it was you. You did not want to be handled at all-" he left out the part where he plucked her out of her mother's arms and she had every reason to be suspicious of him at the time. "You hadn't slept for some time. I remember you had these little purple rings under your eyes. So, I mixed a sleeping draught into your milk. I figured you wouldn't drink it otherwise. For the life of me, I couldn't get you to drink for me. The way you squirmed, you'd think I was trying to poison you. I don't know how long I fought with you, but eventually you drank. You slept soundly in my arms for a couple hours. I remember thinking, 'how could something so small and frail be such a terror?' and-"

Hermione looked away again. When he started she had been captivated, this was the most he had ever told Hermione about their past, but shame and hurt replaced the hungry curiosity in her eyes as the story went on. This wasn't the reaction he expected. Anyone caring for an infant had those thoughts, so why did she seem so hurt by them? He lifted her face by the chin and continued before he could find an excuse to back down.

"Listen to me, love," he said. "Two nights later you started crying and you could not be quietened. You levitated different objects around you, books, blankets, your toy cat. I had to use magic just to get to you. As I mentioned before, you were quite ill. Looking back on it now, it seemed you were quite aware that you needed help and attention, but at the same time was scared to receive it. The young and overwhelmed don't make for the most stable environments, I'm ashamed to admit. I finally did what I should have done long before then and took you to Saint Mungo's. They had to regrow entire portions of your lungs that hadn't developed properly at birth. No doubt the volume at which you cried was aided by magic, given your condition. It's a bit of a paradox really, your body needs all the energy it can to heal, yet the mind wastes it lashing out magically, which in turn depletes your magical energy when it could be better used. Indeed, I suppose that's why you could accomplish that as a baby, but while you're unwell now you can't summon the necessary energy for some intentional spells.

"You had to stay overnight, and I didn't sleep at all that night. I remember pacing the waiting area just waiting for word-" again he left out the part where her birth parents and her fate at a magical orphanage were heavily weighing on his mind. "Finally, a healer came forward and placed you in my arms. You didn't cry, but you were awake. You looked up at me with those big brown eyes of yours and wrapped your tiny hand around my finger, and in that very instant I knew no one had ever trusted me as much you did then. I held you close and promised you that everything would be alright, that I had you," he smiled and brushed her hair out of her face. "That moment is what I think about when I cast my patronus."

"Honest?" Hermione blinked up at him with an expression that made him wish it were true.

"Of course, love," he kissed her forehead.

The story leading up to it may have been true with some major omissions, but like so many things he told his daughter this was a lie. However, the truth would open old wounds for him and create too many new ones for her to count. No, this lie would serve her well.

He wondered what might calm the anxieties preventing her from following his instructions fully as he watched her attempt to create a patronus once again. It dissipated once more with less than a second life-span and Hermione bit her lip so hard she bled. Why all this frustration over a spell beyond her level?

_That's not the point...__Why do I think the point was more than asserting your autonomy? Should I give her another break from this place? That might be good for her..._

He had intended to take her to Diagon Alley after she got back home, but didn't. He read something about cats and their affect on those with severe anxiety. And he had suspected for a while that Hermione fell in that category. If it wasn't for the damned potion brewing in his office, they could make a weekend of it, something to stop her obsessive nature from driving her into the ground.

_She looks nothing like you, if you send her to stay with someone else Black won't target her out. She'll be under adult supervision. _

So the question remained; did he send her to the Weasleys or the Lovegoods?


	40. B3: Ch3: A Long Day at Diagon Alley

_A/N: This chapter posted but not visible due to a bug. Reposting it, hopefully no one was too frustrated by the double-notifications. _

* * *

"This was your idea, Dad," Hermione sighed. "Everything is going to be fine."

"The cheek, Hermione Elizabeth," her father warned checking her-again- for fever. "You'll behave yourself, yes?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

"You'll write me tonight?"

"Yessir," Hermione stood as straight as she could.

She wasn't nearly as horrified by crowds as she'd been two years ago, but she still didn't like the throng of people moving around them. She couldn't move without stopping before risking bumping into someone. They were loud, and everywhere. It was hard to focus on her father with so many talking around her. Hermione blamed her first eleven years of her life sequestered to their living quarters; but it was easy for Hermione to be overwhelmed, overstimulated. She dug her nails into her hands to stared at her feet. Diagon Alley was always crowded. She would have to get used to crowds if she ever wanted to spend August with Hiro in Tokyo. Though despite his letter inviting her next summer, she doubted she would get her father to agree to such an arrangement.

"Professor Snape?" a voice called. "Hermione?"

The two turned to see a short plump woman with curly red hair, freckles and brown eyes beaming at them. She almost didn't recognize Mrs Weasley. She stood straight and proud, rather than hunched over her small girl, she smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes. Though Mrs Weasley seemed happy, she also had a powerful, strict air about her. Hermione had the sudden inclination to think of Mrs Weasley as a lioness. She could be gentle, but she felt Mrs Weasley wouldn't hesitate to destroy anyone who harmed what she held dear. And she felt as though the fake smile, and cautious gleam told her Mrs Weasley hadn't made up her mind about Hermione.

"Yes," her father said. "I would say we already met, but the circumstances were less than ideal."

"Yes, they were, weren't they?" she said briskly before bending to Hermione's eye-level. "We haven't officially met, dear. I'm Mrs Weasley. The boys and Ginny are with Arthur-Mr Weasley. Ginny and I are so thrilled to have another girl in our numbers."

"Good afternoon, Mrs Weasley," Hermione nodded.

"So polite," Mrs Weasley smiled. "Ron tells me you were advanced two years and still were on the top of your year. You and your wife must be so proud."

_He told you I was top of my year but not that I had no mother?_ Hermione sank her nails deeper into her flesh. Things didn't end well when the woman who gave birth to Hermione came up.

"I would refrain from making assumptions about the composition of other families in the future, Mrs Weasley," he said coolly. "I do not have a wife and I happen to be the only parent Hermione has any recollection of."

Mrs Weasley stared at them, her brown eyes widening as she covered her mouth. What Mrs Weasley said was insensitive, but she couldn't help but feel pity for the squat middle-aged woman being stared down by a man who towered over her. Her face drained and she lowered her hand, looking at her father with a mixture of guilt, embarrassment and pity.

"Oh, d-erm-professor," she said in a small voice. "I didn't know, I am so sorry."

A long silence passed between the three of them, Hermione swore the air around them grew thicker and heavier. Mrs Weasley turned her pitying gaze to Hermione. A thousand emotions crossed her chubby freckled face. Guilt and pity yes, but something in her wide, maternal gaze seemed to communicate confusion and...maybe she was reading too much into it, she had a terrible habit of doing so, but it seemed like Mrs Weasley was horrified by the idea that a mother could simply walk out on her child.

"Thank you for offering to look after her," he said placing a hand on Hermione's head. "I assure you she will be on her best behaviour. Won't you, little girl?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

"It's no issue at all," Mrs Weasley gave a forced smile.

_Is she...judging us?_

"I mentioned when I agreed that she tends to get ill, yes?" he asked.

Hermione braced herself for her father to disclose every flaw of hers to Mrs Weasley. Her stomach churned and she clasped her hands together, digging her nails into them as she prayed for him to get it over with.

"You did," Mrs Weasley nodded. "She'll be well looked after."

"Very well," her father nodded.

Hermione drew out a sigh of relief. He had no idea how much leaving the specifics out meant to her.

The two of them said their good byes, her father hesitant to hand her off to another and giving her a thousand reminders that she was to take care of herself, be on guard, go nowhere alone and not to make things difficult for the Weasleys. She hated to admit it, but a tsunami of relief washed over her when he apparated, leaving her alone with Mrs Weasley.

That relief was short lived. Mrs Weasley led her along the streets with an unwelcome arm around her shoulders and seemed to have come to a decision about Hermione. She gave Mrs Weasley that she was well-meaning, and but that didn't make the situation any less uncomfortable.

"Hermione, dear?" Mrs Weasley placed her hands on both her shoulders once they entered the Leaky Cauldron.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley?" she replied, venturing eye contact.

She wished she didn't. Mrs Weasley's expression was soft, but serious, looking more like a close friend about to offer advice than a perfect stranger that she'd only met in passing. And she could feel her damn pity emanating from her.

"I know we've just met, dear," she gave her shoulders a squeeze. "But I want you to know you can ask me _anything_. I was a girl your age once and I know that the next few years will be a very confusing time for you. With the exception of the incident last year, of course, there's nothing you're going through I didn't already. I know I'm not your mum (_Bitch, we just met!_), dear, but please, come to me if you need to talk about _anything at all."_

What the hell was this? Hermione wrung her hands and averted her gaze. She was tired of McGonagall violating her boundaries to discuss things that 'a woman ought to with her' and now this perfect stranger was doing the same? Hermione's father was by no means perfect, and she had only just started recognising the ways he'd hurt her in the past. But for all his flaws, she didn't feel that he was so incapable of discussing such things. True, Hermione preferred to figure things out on her own, it was just easier that way, but if she came to him he would. And if Hermione _needed _an older woman to model herself after, she would have reached out-_okay, I wouldn't have. And I know she means well...but she can't- I can't- I'm not remotely the favourite person of any of your children, nor am I some neglected orphan like Harry...Why are you doing this, Mrs Weasley? What possible reason could-I mean-we just met. My own moth-why are you doing this?!_

"I appreciate the offer, Mrs Weasley," Hermione nodded before forcing a smile. "But I'm fine, honest."

"Of course, dear," she smiled. "Let's go meet the boys and Ginny."

"Oi, Hermione!" Ron called her over, waving from the throng of redheads.

"Hey, Ron," she said weaving between the twins to reach him, Mrs Weasley's arm still on her shoulders.

Ron's blue eyes combed her over and she noticed he got even taller, and his usually pale skin was a bright pink with even more freckles than before. Though he beamed happily at her despite what Hermione could only imagine was a very painful sunburn.

"How was Egypt?" she asked.

"Brilliant!" Ron beamed."How was Japan?"

Fred threw an arm around Ron's shoulder with a mischievious grin, looking just as burned as his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, yes, Hermione, do tell us!"

"How _is _dear Hiro?" George threw his arm around Ron's other shoulder and stared at her.

"Erm," she squeaked staring at her feet. "Fine, Japan was fine, Hiro is-erm-fine." Hermione was certain she'd flushed to the same colour as the Weasleys.

She wasn't ashamed of Hiro, she adored him, perhaps more completely than anyone had ever adored anyone..._Don't be so dramatic, you stupid little girl..._but she felt so embarrassed then. Anyone would be embarrassed by the teasing-maybe. The desire to tell someone she and Hiro were involved and the desire to not be tormented by the twins warred within. Though she wasn't sure if anyone at Hogwarts was safe to tell. If the wrong person let it slip that she was dating to her father..._He could do absolutely nothing, you stupid piece of shit! _

"Boys," Mrs Weasley placed her hands on her hips and stared daggers at them.

She seemed to possess the same power over the boys that her father had over her, as they shut up immediately.

"You must be Hermione," Mr. Weasley, a tall, lanky man with balding redhaired man with horned-rimmed glasses framing blue eyes. "I'm Arthur Weasley, I'm not sure if you remember me. Quite a bit went on."

_There's nothing I don't remember from that night... _"Good afternoon, Mr Weasley," she nodded.

"It's so hard to believe you're in Fred and George's year," he chuckled. "Taking the OWLs at twelve, you must be so excited, and nervous!"

Hermione's stomach churned at the prospect and her mind spiralled in confusion. OWLs, her whole future was riding on those tests, and she had no clue if she were ready for them. What if she choked? What if she got sick? She was certain she would be then, and dug her nails deep into her hands as she tried to steady her breathing.

"Arthur!" Mrs Weasley hissed.

"Right," he nodded. "Sorry, Hermione. I'm sure you'll do just fine."

Nope, that made things worse. Hermione tried to think of something that made her happy. The smell of cherry blossoms, the opening of the bamboo flower, Hiro's lips on hers..._So infatuated with someone so far, what if he- __Damn it! _She forced a smile and nodded again. "Thank you, Mr Weasley."

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

_It wasn't her fault...none of it was her fault..._ Ginny blinked her brown eyes at her and reached out a pink and freckled hand to her. Hermione had to remind herself that the person who threw her down the stairs, dragged her to the chamber and tormented- _almost tortured you, almost killed you, the spells never went off, you little idiot-_ her was a completely different person. Ginny was the small, unassuming girl that she had tried to befriend at the begining of the previous year. She was no different. It was no fair to treat her like she was.

"I'm fine," Hermione forced a smile. "Did you enjoy Egypt too, Ginny?"

Hermione listened intently as Ginny's face lit up, describing the pyramids, with Fred and George elaborating on finer points, here or there, and ribbing the poor girl where they saw fit. The other brothers jumped in, save for Ron, who was uncharacteristically silent. She dug her finger nails in and focused on Ginny's animated stories, the way her face lit up, innocent things that divorced her from Riddle. _Ginny has to have it worse...don't be a coward...It's not her fault..._

Guilt gnawed at Hermione as she wished that the Lovegoods weren't unavailable. Luna had sent Hermione a letter saying they just decided to go to Iceland mid-August. So, when her father did decide to send her off for the last week of August, the Weasleys were the only option. Though sharing a room with Ginny might make her have to face her issues. If she could mend things with Saiyaka- _That was completely different. Baby steps. _

* * *

"Ginny's grown a bit, and we don't have any girl uniforms to pass down," Mrs Weasley explained with a smile. "So we're going to get her robes at the second-hand shop. Do you need to come with us?"

Hermione just got down stairs to be ambushed by the offer. She regarded mother and daughter, Mrs Weasley holding Ginny's hand, and Ginny hiding under a veil of long straight, flaming red hair. Ginny was at least eleven, and had to be twelve by Septemeber first-and Mrs Weasley thought it was okay to hold her hand in public. _So, I guess that is normal. _

"Mum," Ginny whispered taking her hand back.

Mrs Weasley gave a sigh and adjusted her purse-something to do with her hands, Hermione guessed. She beckoned Hermione over, and she got the distinct impression that Mrs Weasley had an ulterior motive to this girls' outing. Did she do this with Harry? Or was it simply that Hermione was a motherless daughter? At seven, didn't she have enough children? Why attempt to burden herself with Hermione as well?

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip. "I al-"

"Oi, Hermione!" Ron called, rushing down the stairs and grabbing her arm.

_Oh, thank god! _"Hey, R-"

"Ronald Weasley," Mrs Weasley snapped. "That is no way to speak to a young lady!"

Ron's face-if it was possible- grew even pinker and his ears flushed scarlet as he stared at his scuffed trainers before murmuring. "It's just Hermione, Mum."

"'Just Hermione'?" Mrs Weasley scoffed. "Ronald Weasley, apologise."

"It's fine, Mrs Weasley," Hermione blurted. "Erm, what was it, Ron?"

"Harry's already here. Let's go look for him, shall we?" he said, now in a less confident voice.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'd like the company," Hermione nodded following him out of the Leaky Cauldron.

* * *

Harry sat in the summer sun looking rather peaceful as he dug into a comically large icecream sundae. Hermione noted that, unlike Ron, he didn't physically change over the summer. He sat, dwarved in his oversized jeans and jumper, untidy black hair framing his too thin white face, and his glasses were once again mended at the nose with cello-tape. She wondered if that meant his cousin was using him as a punching bag again.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron called waving as he ran over to him.

Hermione dashed beside him. Ron getting taller meant he had long legs, and he easily out-paced Hermione, where Hermione had only just managed to regain the height she lost back in November due to a transfiguration mishap. It was too bad she didn't keep the keen speed and reaction time.

"Hey, Ron, Hermione," Harry rose and proved Hermione wrong. He'd gotten taller too, and his cheek bones were less pronounced than before-making him look a little less starved.

"We heard about you aunt!" Ron leaned in with excitement. "Did you do it? Blow her up I mean?"

_What?! _Hermione's eyes grew and she couldn't stop herself from staring at Harry. _Blew her up? Like exploded...what the fuck? No, don't be an idiot, not even Harry Potter would get off for that, and regardless of how nasty his bitch of an aunt is, he'd be a little disturbed, even if it were an accident. _

"I didn't mean too," Harry explained, looking at Hermione nervously. "She said some stuff about my mum and dad and suddenly she just inflated, blew up like a balloon! She even floated off into the sky-" he chuckled at this. "Okay, I found it funny, but it was an accident, honest!"

Hermione sighed in relief. "I thought-when he said blew up-"

"What the hell, Hermione," Harry gasped. "You didn't think I'd make a person _explode?_"

"Not on purpose!" she squeaked. "I-I-"

"Harry wouldn't be sitting here eating ice cream if he murdered some one, Hermione!" Ron snapped. "Merlin, you know, I really do think Snape dropped or shook you as a baby."

_I literally had my brain transfigured and shortly after recovery sustained a severe concussion and you're making brain damage jokes?! _"That would explain why I still hang around you, wouldn't it?" she hissed. _Don't cry. _

"You hang around us because we're the only ones who tolerate you," Ron scoffed.

"I'm certain I only imagined Luna, Skylar and O'Malley, or Lee and your brothers," Hermione spat.

"You two can stop re-enacting my aunt and uncle's marriage when they think nobody's watching," Harry groaned. "Why are you two always like this?"

"Sorry," Hermione sighed, digging her nails into her hands. _Be the bigger person... _"To both of you."

"'Salright," Ron shrugged as if he had done nothing wrong.

_Didn't just do what, love? _Between her father and Ron, Hermione felt she should just get used to non-apologies and if she wanted to be anything but alone, she'd have to be the first to cop to her wrong-doing, even if it was in response to someone else. Harry and Ron simply started joking, Ron helping himself to portions of Harry's sundae, as if nothing had happened. It didn't matter that Ron just called her brain-damaged _again _when she was certain there _was_ something wrong with her.

_It doesn't matter..._

"You know, Hermione," Harry said with a chuckle. "I'm surprised you didn't already know about the incident with my aunt. You normally follow the news so thoroughly-I mean it didn't explicitly make the paper, thank god. Just mentions of an incident in Little Whinging. But I also assumed Snape would have tried to use it as an excuse to try and get us to stop hanging out."

Ron laughed at this. "I can imagine it now. 'This boy is a delinquent, little girl. No good can come of this friendship. Indeed, I think the boy's a terrible influence.'"

"It _disturbs _me how accurately you can portray him," Hermione sighed. "We didn't hear about it because-" _I got attacked by dementors twice? Had to be rescued_ again. _After__ I spent my time _failing _to produce a patronus, instead? No! _"I have so many subjects, I've been reading school books all August."

"Didn't you just get out of school in Japan?" Ron grimaced. "You _need_ a life, Hermione."

"I know," she sighed with a shrug.

"Oh!" Ron leapt up. "Scabbers has been a bit off colour since we got back from Egypt. I need to buy him a medicine. Wanna come with me to the pet store?"

"Works for me," Hermione said rising. "I'm picking up a kitten."

"Snape gave you pocket money _and _permission to get a pet with no practical purpose?" Harry scoffed.

"Dad thinks I'm seven and can buy my forgiveness with a kitten despite the fact it's been six years since I've asked for one," Hermione shrugged. _That sounded fucking catty-you stupid bitch. He's not that bad... _"I didn't mean- I sound ungrateful. And he's actually improved quite a bit, honest! I just-ugh!" she sighed. "I don't know who the woman who gave birth to me was-"

"Are you allergic to the word 'mother'?" Ron laughed.

"Anyway," Hermione sighed. "I don't know who she is, but if I inherited anything from her it's the ability to harbour a grudge indefinitely-whether or not I'm in the right to."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure it's _her _you picked that up from," Harry mused.

* * *

The Magical Menagerie was empty, run by an older plump woman with wiry white hair who leaned on her desk, next to a raven perched beside the register that cawed upon their entering.

That raven set off the flock of smaller ravens screeching in the oversized bird cage (It was like a room its own) on the right side of the room. It must have held at least fifty, Hermione couldn't quite figure out how many exactly. Too many of them flapped around, many becoming blurry, black clusters. Hermione approached them trepidatiously, trying to determine if the birds were simply overstimulated or if the birds were mistreated. Surprisingly, she found no trace of blood or droppings, but peanut shells strewn across the floor.

"Shut up, Ned!" the witch rolled her eyes.

The bird at her side did, but the others continued on.

"You looking at a raven, little girl?" asked the witch.

Hermione shook her head, shrinking at the approach. _What was that Dad said about not raising a wilting wall flower? He must be so ashamed of how I turned out._

"Okay," she sighed. "What about you boys? I'll give you a discount if you can relieve me of one of those cawing gits."

Ron presented his suddenly underwieght-it had been a very fat rat before- grey-brown rat to her, nearly shoving it in the poor old woman's face.

"My rat's been off-colour since we brought him back from Egypt," he said.

"Let me look at him, dear," she set the rat down on her desk. "No injuries, fever, or evident signs of illness. How old is he?"

"We're not exactly sure," Ron said. "My older brother took him in about twelve years ago, and he wasn't exactly a baby."

"And his powers?" she asked.

"Erm," Ron's ears turned pink. "I don't reckon he has any. He's kind of useless."

The witch sighed and looked at Ron with something other than disinterest- sympathy. "I'm afraid if he's a normal right, he won't be long for this world. They normally only live two to five years. For him to be older than twelve-I'm sorry, kid."

"Is there anything at all you can do?"

"I might be able to interest you in a younger more spray rat?" she gestured to a cage behind her.

An adorable and chubby white rat with brown spots climbed the cage before doing a backflip.

"Show-off," Ron muttered. "Anything you can do to help _this _rat?"

"I make no promises, kid," the witch sighed producing a red, glass vile. "This rat tonic should help him feel a bit more himself for whatever time he has left."

"I'll take it," Ron counting out his knuts. "How much is it?"

"Tell you what, kid, what do you have th-Crookshanks!"

A very large, long-haired ginger cat leapt down from an unknown perch, nearly pouncing on Scabbers when Ron snatched him from the counter. The cat leapt forward, trying for the horrified rat in Ron's hands before the witch grabbed him. He still struggled, trying very hard to get out of the witch's grasp, yowling and hissing. Ron and Harry backed away until the turned and ran from the store. The cat immediately quietened.

The cat-Crookshanks- approached her and she looked into his wide yellow eyes. He was a beautiful cat, part persion she thought by the flatened snout. He rubbed his head against her hand and started purring.

"Aren't you sweet?" she asked. "What was that all about?"

Crookshanks sat and locked eyes with her. She wasn't sure, she'd never tested her theory since the incident, but she felt he was communicating with her. That something was not right with the rat-off. Whatever it was, set Crookshanks off. And a sense of familiarity. And also-a deep lonliness, despite being surrounded by other creatures. A sense of abandonment, confusion, and a dejected acceptance that his situation would never change.

"You've been here for a long time, haven't you?" Hermione asked. "Years? You poor thing."

"How did you-?" the witch rolled her eyes. "Yes, he's been here twelve years."

"_Twelve years?"_ Hermione gasped. "That's horrible."

"Well, everyone looking for a cat wants a kitten, don't they?" she groaned.

Hermione got an image of a cat, barely old enough to be grown, but too old to be a kitten hiding under the sales desk and hissing. Then one of constantly being looked over for his more attractive and younger peers. Hermione felt that pain on a level that she was certain she did not need to have her brain altered to understand. She wondered if her mother had a better, younger and prettier child out there...

"Not me," Hermione declared. "I'll take him. Erm, much is the tonic?" she added, awkwardly at Ron's forgotten tonic.

* * *

"Crookshanks is adorable!" Ginny squealed.

Hermione forgot that Ginny, too, was a great lover of cats. She bet Luna would like him too, the way she fawned over her when she was transfigured to a real-life version of a manga cat-girl. Hermione put the thought from her head and while she mulled over the fringe benefits from the failed spell. Crookshanks didn't give her those images, it was something constructed from the ideas communicated to her, like how she pictured things when she read novels. It was such an automatic response, she had to think about the communication-perhaps she imagined it?

"He is, isn't he?" she said, shutting the instant messaging journal, having said goodnight to her father and promised she was safe.

_I can't be trusted to keep myself alive for a damn week, _she thought bitterly. Hermione told him that the Weasleys were treating her well,that she was eating (Mrs Weasley watched her like a bloody hawk at the table!), that she was rooming with Ginny and that she had already picked up her cat. She 'neglected' mention that Harry joined up with the Weasleys. He may have sent her away because he felt bad about confining her to their living quarters after the second incident with the dementor. But he'd probably regret that decision a whole lot less than having her under someone else's supervision with Harry Potter close by.

And the way he talked abut Sirius Black. Hermione should have searched through the archives before her confinement! Whatever he did, to make her father's voice catch like that...It had to be horrific...

Ginny moved from the floor to sit on the bed net to her, her flaming eyebrows knit in confusion. "Ron never picks up on it, but you've been on edge this entire time. Just-" she sighed. "Please be honest with me, Hermione. Is it-is it me?"

Damn her insight. How did she know? Hermione made a point of being perfectly normal with Ginny, how could she ever...what did she do wrong? She never wanted to hurt Ginny. Though that wasn't what she was thinking about at that moment, she could deflect the question without ignoring that plea for honesty.

"I was just thinking about Sirius Black," she sighed. _Don't back away, coward. It's not her fault. _"I'm worried about Harry. I don't think his reaction to discovering a mass-murderer is after him will be to allow others to safeguard him."

"I hate and love- I mean like!-that about him," Ginny nervously laughed. "Do you think he's really in danger? Mum won't tell me anything about Black."

"Ugh!" Hermione cried, rolling her eyes. "Why don't grown-ups ever give us information about dangerous situations? I swear, they're all useless!"

Ginny backed up at this, her brown eyes growing large, looking at Hermione as if she had suddenly become someone else. Hermione bit her lip and looked away. "Sorry, Ginny," she breathed. "I didn't-I-"

"It's because of February, isn't it?" Ginny looked away. "I haven't been the same either. Riddle living inside my brain, manipulating me. Oh, he knew the perfect things to say. He could play me like a fiddle...then suddenly, I was losing time. I-" she choked.

A silence passed between the girls, and Ginny finally turned to Hermione, her freckled face near white, and her eyes filled with tears. "I thought it was all my fault. That I never should have trusted that bastard! And now, I-trusting people who say they know what's going on-it-it-it isn't easy. It's like any time anyone says something re-assuring, or tries to convince me I'm safe-I -I-"

"Can't believe them," Hermione finished, her own voice catching. "Ginny, it's not-"

"But you," Ginny whispered. "You broke through that. I don't know how I know this, Hermione, but I wouldn't have been able to stop him from-" she started to sob. "From _torturing _you or _killing _you. That first time you broke through...I suddenly woke up. I heard your voice, I could _feel _his intent. I didn't even know what those curses were, but I knew what he wanted to do with them. I couldn't let him. I fought for control of my own body, harder than I ever thought I could, but he was so strong. I still managed to stop him. I could stay dormant because I thought I was too far gone-no one would forgive me. Colin was my only friend, and we only ever talked about Harry. But you-_you _ of all people reminded me that I have a family, that I have people that think I deserve a second chance. That you would be there for me, that _you _thought I deserved a second chance. You didn't see your best friend's kid sister, or the pathetic girl with a pathetic crush. I thought, because of the things you said that maybe you were fine. You kept saying you were fine. I even visited you in the hospital, spoke to you when you were released and you said you were fine. I meant to write you while you were in Japan, but we won that trip to Egypt, and I welcomed the distraction."

Crookshanks leapt up in between the two of them, and both girls absently scratched behind an ear each, letting his purring fill the cold void Ginny's silence made. Hermione wished she had never said anything. This seemed too painful for Ginny to confront, and there she was, describing the event in a painful detail that made Hermione's heart literally ache. What hurt the most was seeing just how much Ginny blamed herself-and how much Hermione going back on her words-even if she never meant to-reopened them. Hermione still had nightmares about the chamber, she still heard Riddle's words with Ginny's voice, saw her expression change before she pushed her down the stairs. And how he taunted her, using the voice and face of someone she trusted...

_I'll kill you when he comes for you and leave Ginny just in time for the little blood traitor to see the last breath leave your frail, little body_.

Hermione would never forget those words as long as she lived. _But you could...he did it once against your will, he might do it again if you ask him. And say what? 'I can't live with these memories? I'm too-what? Stupid? Pathetic? Weak? Frail? To process-fuck, does it even count as trauma? Ginny was possessed, Harry did the fighting...And could I even trust him to just erase the memories I ask him to?_

_Ginny's hurting, stop being selfish, you stupid piece of shit!_

"My point," Ginny swallowed. "Is that I know what it's like not to trust anything before you. I'm still dealing with it and I'll probably be dealing with it for a long time. But you helped me a lot. You don't seem to know that."

_How? You just said I woke you to some of the most traumatic shit you've lived through..._

Luna's voice of all things came into her head, _I think you're way too hard on yourself..._

Why she heard Luna's words there, she didn't know. Hermione reviewed her reactions to things, and the mistakes she made concerning Ginny, and came to the conclusion that she wasn't nearly hard enough on herself. So why did she hear them now?

"Ginny, I-"

"Do you think I don't know what crippling guilt looks like, Hermione?" she snapped and suddenly grew fierce. "I've been convinced that this was all my fault since we got out of that chamber! The way you looked at me-I didn't want to acknowledge it-you kept saying you were fine and I wanted to believe it because you were the one that pulled me out of my own dark place. It's not your fault-and I still feel like it's mine."

Hermione placed a too cautious hand on Ginny's shoulder. Part of her wanted to hug her, the girl was so upset, but last time they "hugged" it was Riddle trying to muffle the sounds of Hermione's calling out. _Coward..._

"It's not your fault, Ginny. If what I said back in the chamber pulled you out of it, then some part of you has to know that."

Ginny nodded stiffly. "I'll probably feel at fault for a while. I talked to Mum about it when we came home. I was too ashamed the first week, but I'm sure you've noticed, she's stubborn," Ginny gave a weak laugh. "But it helped me see something. As much as I feel it was my fault, it wasn't. I'm just a kid and I was taken advantage of. Anyone else would have faired the same in my shoes. I keep having to remind myself that. I have to remind myself every day, but Mum did help me see that it wasn't my fault. And it's not yours either. I'm not even sure how it could be. Mum says our minds will play tricks on us after experiences like that. That sometimes it's better to feel guilty, but in control than it is to admit it wasn't our fault. I don't know how that's true, I'd much rather just think of myself as a victim than feel this guilt. But she's been right about a lot of things."

Another silence passed between them as Hermione processed her words. Hermione was the opposite, it was easier-familiar even-to acknowledge that she was a fuck-up than a victim. If she just did things right-if she followed the rules her brain laid out for her, maybe she could not be a fuck up. She just had to try harder...but she needed that control.

"Honestly, Hermione," Ginny said in a soft voice. "I know you said you don't trust grown-ups, but talking to my Mum helped, a lot. We still talk about it sometimes. It sounds weird, but it does help. I could ask her to talk to you."

Hermione moved her gaze to her cat. It wasn't just the incident in the chamber that she felt guilty for. She thought about every mistake she made, all culminating to Ginny's hurt, and that man on the cliff-would she ever not think of him? Could she tell anyone? _If they forgave you as a scared little girl for not doing something sooner about Ginny, they'd still think you a monster for walking away from_ him..._But I didn't think he'd do it, I don't even know if he did..._

"I'll-erm," Hermione dug her nails into her her hand. "I'll take it under advisement."


	41. B3: Ch4: The Unavoidable Mrs Weasley

_A/N: Chapter 40 (B3:Ch3: A Long Day in Diagon Alley) (the previous chapter) is back up. Came back up at some point on its own. If you've only been notified for chapter 41, you'll want to read that one first! Sorry for the difficulty._

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione whispered to him at breakfast. _I should have done this earlier. _"Can I talk to you?"

Ron and Harry were discussing quidditch, Ron wishing he could afford a good broom for try-outs before Harry reminded him that no one would be leaving the team until next year. She saw a twinge of disappointment cross his face and wondered if he knew that disappointment was shared by his sister. Though that was so far from important that moment.

"Erm," Harry looked at Ron for a moment. "Sure, Hermione."

The two of them disappeared upstairs, dodging looks where possible. They debated on where they could speak in private.

"I wish we didn't share a room with Percy or the twins," Harry said, combing the corridor with his eyes.

"Can't risk Ginny forgetting something and overhearing either," she admitted.

"Here," he sighed, pointing to a broom cupboard. "I always wind up in a broom cupboard."

Harry and Hermione quickly dived into the dark, cramped cupboard, sitting between haphazardly placed brooms and buckets.

"This is really important," Hermione whispered. "Though if you want to tell Ron, that's your propagative. I thought it was best you heard it yourself first. I think I'd want to process things myself if it were me. If Ginny or the twins question it, I needed to bitch about their mother to someone who wasn't their child."

"What's wrong with Mrs Weasley?"

"I'll make this quick," Hermione ignored the question. "I meant to tell you and Ron yesterday, but the whole fiasco at the petshop-anyway. It's about Sirius Black."

"The escaped prisoner?" Harry asked.

"I think he's after you," Hermione nodded. "They have dementors-"

"I'm sorry, what's a dementor?"

"A magical creature that feeds off of the misery of others, leaching away any trace of happiness," Hermione shuddered remembering her encounters. "At their worse they can suck the very soul from you. I-it's a fate worse than death."

"H-how does that work?" Harry whispered.

"Th-they-erm-" Hermione remembered that day on the lake shore, she wasn't sure that's what would have happened-but she shuddered again."It's not important right now, Harry. But they're guarding the village nearby and the perimeter of the grounds in case. I-I meant to look for the reason, Harry, I really did, and I'm so sorry I didn't get the chance. I had-erm-it doesn't matter. Dad said that Sirius Black was an exceptionally cruel man responsible for the deaths of fifteen people. And that he's escaped prison to come after you."

"What?" Harry breathed. "But why would anyone be after-do you think he has anything to do with Voldemort?"

Hermione's stomach churned and she clasped her hands together, digging her nails into her hands. She wasn't sure, but if Black was after him...that had to be the reason. And then there were the reports her father made her copy two summers ago. _Black Sirius, Lupin Remus, and Pettigrew Peter and Potter James. How many reports did I see those four names in that exact order? _"I don't know what he wants with you. But I think it's something we have to consider. And...I don't know how to tell you this, Harry, but it-erm-gets worse."

"Worse?" Harry scoffed. "Worse than a mass-murderer coming after me?"

_Tell him, how long have I been upset with Dad for not telling me anything about my past? Harry deserves this._ "I th-think Black was friends with your dad-at least back when they were kids. I-I'm really sorry."

"What?!" Harry yelled.

"Shit!" Hermione hissed. "We don't-"

Suddenly light came pouring into the cupboard and Hermione's eyes adjusted to see a very cross looking Mrs Weasley staring down at the two of them. The heckles on the back of Hermione's neck rose, and Harry's face drained-though she was certain it was from the connection his father might have shared with the man looking to kill him.

"I cannot believe this is how I find you two!" Mrs Weasley snapped.

"We were just talking, Mrs Weasley," Harry said finding his feet. "Honest."

"In a cupboard?" Mrs Weasley's eyes narrowed.

"I asked him to, Mrs Weasley," Hermione swallowed as she rose. "I-erm- I wanted his advice on this boy back in Japan. You know how-erm-merciless, Ron and the twins can be."

Not the story she had rehearsed in her mind, but she couldn't exactly tell Mrs Weasley that she needed to bitch about Mrs Weasley. She bit her lip and clasped her hands, hoping she bought it.

"Alright, then," she sighed, brushing off Harry's shoulders. "I believe you two. Harry, dear, why don't you go down and join the boys and Ginny."

"Yes, Mrs Weasley," he nodded and was off like a shot.

Mrs Weasley turned to Hermione with a broad smile. "Why don't we go to the room you and Ginny are sharing, dear. I think we should chat."

Hermione wrung her hands nervously following Mrs Weasley to the room. Was she going to scream at her? This was normally where Hermione would expect that. She prepared herself for the barrage of insults but found when Mrs Weasley invited her to sit beside her, she wished it was just that. It seemed Hermione's lack of a mother meant that there was a vacuum that Mrs Weasley could feel herself. Hermione always thought she might have liked a maternal presence, but the whole conversation felt...invasive.

"I remember when I was a girl, there was this boy I very much fancied," Mrs Weasley said. "But before we have a little chat about him, you need to know you can't be hiding in cupboards with boys. It's a safety-"

"Harry would _never_-"

"I know, dear," Mrs Weasley placed an unwelcome arm around her shoulders. "But people talk, and the damage that can do to a young girl's reputation can attract unwanted attention. Did your father not talk to you about this, dear?"

_Unwanted attention? That seems like people should mind their own damn business, not that I should avoid speaking in private with my friends. _"It never came up, Mrs Weasley." _This is also not your business! _She stared at her clasped hands and hoped she would get the lecture over with.

Mrs Weasley sighed. "What I ought to do is write your father so he could tell you about this. It would be what's best for you, but your father would kill Harry, so I'll have this chat with you instead..."

Mrs Weasley spent the better part of an hour telling Hermione about things she already knew. Unlike with McGonagall, Hermione couldn't simply make empty promises to have the conversation with her father later, and the option to say the conversation already happened was something she'd already let slip away. She felt a deep sympathy for Ginny as she knew this conversation was pending if it hadn't already happened. Though she was efficient, Hermione gave her that. Rolling burgeoning feelings (she focused only on feelings toward boys), mood changes and "safe" conduct around boys all into one long, painful conversation, stopping short of sex and birth control. _Thank god for that!_

"You're what, dear, thirteen? Or you will be shortly?" Mrs Wealsey asked.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley," Hermione nodded stiffly.

"Has your father talked to you about the changes you'll go through, dear?"

_Oh, dear god, no! _Hermione buried her face in her hands. "That _is _a conversation we've already had."

Harry, Ron and Hermione proved unable to get a moment alone after that disaster of a conversation. Mrs Weasley was either nearby or Ginny lurked around them, strangely silent. But always around. The twins didn't make life easier either. If Harry wanted to tell Ron, they'd probably have to get away themselves. Hermione thought she might have to tell Harry the details on the train.

Ginny's silence broke when they got ready for bed during the night.

"She means well, you know," Ginny snapped.

"Ginny, I-" Hermione choked clinging to Crookshanks.

Ginny began pacing the length of the room, her wet red hair creating a trail of droplet on the floor. "Harry told me that you needed to complain about my mother? When you two disappeared together, I'll admit it, I was angry. You knew I liked Harry, and I thought you were-but now I think I prefer that!"

Hermione bit her lip. She should have seen this coming. _Stupid bitch! You could have made up anything else! _"Ginny, look, I'm sorry. I should have known better, I feel the same way you do now when people insult my f-"

"Except your dad deserves it!" Ginny hissed. "Mum just saw a motherless daughter and thought you-she _likes _you, y'know. Thinks you're sweet. She saw a hurting girl and just wanted to help!"

"I didn't say anything about your mother that people say about my father," Hermione spoke slowly and clasped her hands together. "People, including your brothers, say my father is cruel, evil, and a whole bunch of things I won't get into. He has a temper, I have to grant you that, but he isn't half as bad as everyone says he is. You said you wanted to be friends, do you think I'd be the sort of person you'd want to be friends with if the only person who raised me was a complete monster?"

Ginny stopped pacing and sat on the bed opposite her, anger still palpable, but unlike her older brother, Ginny displayed patience, a willingness to hear her out even when she was angry. "I don't think you're just the people who raised you. But I can't be upset about what you said about Mum and while insulting your father. What _is_ your problem with her?"

Hermione fixed her eyes on her clasped hands, which Crookshanks insisted on head-buntng. It was easier than being honest and making eyecontact. "I just needed to vent. Your mum seems like a nice person, but she's-" Hermione sighed. "She's not-I have boundaries. She might think she's doing well, but she's a stranger to me.I'm sure she means well, Ginny. But I can't-I _have _a parent. Your mum swooping in the way she is doesn't just feel invasive, but like she's insisting that my dad wasn't good enough. The woman who gave birth to me left before I was even a year old, we're fine as we are. _I'm fine._"

"You just needed to vent," Ginny said slowly.

_Shit! I can't tell you the truth...it's Harry's place... _"Yes, I'm sorry. I just-thought maybe Harry would understand, but he doesn't seem as bothered by the attention."

"My brothers and I vent about her all the time for less," Ginny admitted. "It just feels-when someone from the outside-wrong. Like we're the only ones allowed to insult our own family."

"I completely understand that," Hermione smiled. "Believe it or not, I've said shite about Dad that I'd flay others for."

"I believe it," Ginny laughed.

* * *

"I assume it's coming along well?" Dumbledore mused.

Severus tapped his want on the edge of the cauldron and watched the purple plumes of steam rise in curving tendrils. "Two weeks brewing this damn thing every month for the rest of the year. I hope you know what you're doing."

"I assure you, Severus, I always do," Dumbledore sighed. "Rest of the year?"

Severus rolled his eyes before throwing in three crushed monkshood petals into the mixture. "Lockhart had a better chance of breaking the little jinx on the position than Lupin. I give it a month before everyone finds out and parents call for his removal."

"You know, Severus," the old man stroked his beard and looked to the ceiling. "There was a time when parents swore I should never be around children, that I was a danger to them simply for who I loved in my youth."

"Grindlewald was a terrorist," he reminded the old man. "Though I suppose you have that under wraps now. But I imagine you're alluding to other boyfriends in your past?"

"Indeed I am," Dumbledore nodded. "It was very dangerous to out back then, so not many know the names, just that they existed in my school days. Very Scandalous back in the day I assure you. And when I wanted to work with children-"

"I know you're not comparing being gay to being a werewolf!" Severus snapped. "You were never _actually _a danger. Lupin could very well be a complete saint the other twenty-nine days of the month and it wouldn't matter. He has no control whatsoever when he turns. They're not even comparable, I have no clue why you're trying!"

"Ever observant, Severus," Dumbledore gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes, having a different sexuality is very different than lycanthropy. And I'm sure I needed to have my much younger straight friend point that out."

_Friend, that's rich! But I probably should have thought about that. _"Your point, then?" he snapped.

"Is that regardless of the reality, the perception by the public are very similar," Dumbledore said. "Parents called for not just my removal, but my blood. It didn't matter in those days that I was accomplished, powerful or good at what I did. There may be nothing wrong with me, whereas Lupin has an actual condition, which can be catastrophic when unattended. But we face very similar treatment, or at one time did. I won't forget that. The fact that you felt the need to bury a part of your daughter's identity should make you sympathetic as well."

Hermione's muggle heritage was nothing compared to Lupin being a werewolf! The person in danger by the parts of Hermione's identity he chose to bury was Hermione herself, not anyone else. Lupin wasn't a saint, but even if he were, his condition-out of his control or not-endangered others. _That's the point of the potion, you stupid piece of shit._

"You've agreed to make the potions, and keep your silence," Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose I've already asked plenty from you given your past. Thank you."

Severus's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the older man, something like sincerity and sympathy twinkled in his blue eyes. He was left once again wondering if things might have been different if he'd responded in a way other than lashing out when the old man reached out to him as a child. It was funny, he spent his childhood moving from horrible substitutes for connection when the healthier option was right in front of him. It made him think of Hermione from his dream again. Was she truly on a similar trajectory? He couldn't see her joining the Death Eaters, for many reasons, but he _could _see that her tenacity to hold on to- what he thought were frankly abusive friendship- coming from such a place.

_Does she have a single healthy relationship? _he wondered. The girl seemed to have plenty of friends in Japan-but all he had to go from was her word, and he was beginning to accept that if she believed she could get away with lying, she would. Outside of Potter and the Weasleys, he supposed he regularly saw her with Longbottom-who had yet to figure out how easily he was able to manipulate her- Lovegood, who seemed fine- if touched in the head- Sloan- he didn't know enough about them to make a judgement either way, but he was suspicious of the older child- and he trusted O'Malley about as much as he trusted Potter-no, no less. The boy reminded him too much of his younger self to be comfortable to let him anywhere near his little girl.

_Okay, she has to have other people in your life than you. Who do you approve of? _He didn't. Severus was acutely aware every parent felt so, but Hermione surrounded herself with people who were frankly just not good enough for her. Why she made the choices she did, how she had come to be so desperate for connection that she took it where she could find it, he didn't know. He knew he had-to put it lightly-some work to do. But he had also had made it abundantly and painfully clear to Hermione that she was important, loved and that she mattered. So why did she repeatedly make unhealthy choices when it came to the people she included in her life?

"Oh!" Dumbledore said. "Before I forget, there was something I wanted to talk to Hermione about before the start of term. I couldn't find her at the library, so I imagine she's still confined to your living quarters?"

"Confined?" Severus scoffed. "You make it sound like I imprisoned the poor girl. Though she seemed to think so- one week and I started to worry she might dart out a bloody window (in truth he simply saw her starting to fade)! So, I decided to respond to the Weasleys' invitation."

Dumbledore raised his pointed white eyebrows at him and his mouth hung open in surprise for a moment. "That's likely what's best for her. But I must say, Severus, I'm very surprised you'd send her away after the incident. An experience like that would leave older and better witches traumatised. I assumed you wouldn't want to leave her with strangers. Sending her away from the place it happened was smart though, and she's not exactly with strangers either. Harry and Ron should either prove to be a good support or a welcome distraction."

"I cannot imagine either of those boys-Wait! _Potter _is with the Weasleys?" he choked. "Of course he fucking is! I'm an idiot! It's Potter Black is after, if he finds them-she's just so-why the hell didn't I consider that?!"

"Erm, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"And she's already been through so much-I don't know if she could actually defend herself. I sent her away because I thought she needed a break from this place-" _It was _you _she needed the break from and you know it..._"-If I knew-I-Black was exceptionally cruel before-and if he somehow found out she was _my_ daughter-she's-"

"Fine, Severus," Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. Hermione had been with the Weasleys- where are you going?"

Severus turned back, already at the door. "The potion can be left alone for a few hours. I'm getting my little girl back before something happens to her."

"She's been with the Weasleys for how long now?"

"A week," he spat. "I left her in danger for a week!"

"You don't think she can survive one more day with seven different people looking out for her best interests?"

There it was, that damned knowing twinkle again. And Severus had to admit the damn man was right. In the morning, the Weasleys would take her to the platform. Half a day, there was no real reason he couldn't trust the Weasleys to look after her for that long. The twelve-year-old girl could spend half a day supervised with her friends.

* * *

Hermione never really celebrated birthdays, it was just something they didn't do. However, she woke up on her thirteenth birthday expecting to feel different. More adult, she guessed. Perhaps that was dumb, but she did. And she didn't really feel that at all. _Is it stupid I'm disappointed? _she pondered. _It probably is. Damn shoujo manga telling me otherwise. _

She was just tired of tip-toing through life like a frightened little girl. Hermione knew it was stupid to expect a bloody number to change that. And she recognised the paradox in her desire to be more grown up, while harbouring a deep suspicion of other grown-ups. All July, she chastised herself, telling herself she was nearly thirteen and had to grow the fuck up, yet just two days ago she ranted about how useless all grown-ups were. She kind of just had to accept she was in a bit of a weird place emotionally.

"Morning, Hermione," Ginny yawned and stretched. "Big day today, huh?"

_I never said-how'd you know? _"Sorry?"

"Same as every September first," Ginny joked. "We're boarding the train to school today, remember? I thought only I was hopeless when I first woke!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked. "At least I'm out of bed!"

Two nights ago, Ginny had been very vulnerable with her. Something Hermione couldn't really return, despite experiencing the same event. Part of her felt she owed Ginny some vulnerability. A bigger part of her told her opening up about her side of things would only burden her while she tried to process what she needed to process. A small part of her that Hermione didn't want to acknowledge had selfish reasons to keep it to herself. What if Ginny judged her for not being able to deal with something much less horrible than her _actual _trauma.

Ginny had talked about it in less detail a couple of times during the two days, but often opted to talk about much easier topics. Hermione was happy to be a shoulder to cry on, but she was happier to be a sounding board as Ginny talked about her anxieties for the new year, or reassure her when she talked about Harry. In truth, Hermione felt a bit like a spy dropping bits of intel for Ginny to use when she gained the confidence. Hermione meanwhile successfully avoiding talking about herself or her worries.

"Tell me," Ginny said brushing her long red hair. "That you'll keep talking to me once we're at school. It's just-this was nice to have someone other than my brothers to talk to."

"Of course I will," Hermione scoffed rolling her eyes. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Ginny's face lit up and a gleam formed in her brown eyes. "Oh, you have no clue how relieved I am to hear that! Colin's nice and all, and Annie-the Gryffindor girl in my year- did start talking to me, but we don't have much in common."

Hermione forced a smile again. She really did want to be friends with Ginny, and felt that if the younger girl could put aside her doubts she could too. If she didn't feel safe talking about herself, she could still be there for her.

"I'll be around whenever you need me," Hermione promised.


	42. B3: Ch5: Dementor and Girl on the Train

"Do you all have everything you need?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Kings Cross was filled with muggles and wizarding families yelling farewells, and rushing to their perspective platforms. Hermione never left the train from Hogwarts and back on her first year. She had no idea it could get so crowded. She searched for familiar faces, wondering if she might spot Luna, but quickly gave up. She would have clasped her hands to-well, she didn't know why, it steaded her, controlled her, she guessed-had it not been for Crookshanks's basket and her trunk.

_Why is everywhere so damn crowded? _she thought, her stomach churning.

She listened to the impatient mewing, and the conversations around her. Mrs Weasley and Arthur Weasley sounded apprehensive as they talked to each other. Harry, Ron and the twins buzzed with excitement. No, that wasn't exactly true, Harry seemed very distracted..._Of course he is. I do want to try to talk about it later. _

"Have you ever crossed the barrier to the platform, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked.

Hermione shook her head as they gathered around the wall between platforms nine and ten. She watched as Fred and George ran their trolleys through the brick barrier, vanishing to the other side. She had read about the platform and enchantments on it, and had seen quite a lot of impressive magic in her time, but there was something fascinating about seeing the Weasleys one-by-one move through the brick wall as if it were no more than water.

Water was not an apt metaphor, she decided when she leaned through the wall herself. It was like she fell through a whole perfectly shaped for her, and fell onto an equally bustling platform, this time with only witches and wizards. The great train sat at rest on the tracks as large groups boarded. She stood on tiptoes to see she who she could and couldn't recognise.

"Does everyone have everything?" Mrs Weasley asked, again.

"Yes, Mum," came a collective exasperated tone from the Weasley children.

"Alright, dears," Mrs Weasley beamed at the lot of them with outstretched arms.

Mrs Weasley went through her sons, one by one, standing on the balls of her feet to hug them and kiss them on the cheek. Something Ron and the twins received with groans. Ron's ears burned scarlet when she moved to her youngest, and only girl with more fervour.

_Looks like Dad isn't the only one scared of something happening again... _

"Okay, Mum," Ginny groaned after what must have felt to her was ages. "I'll miss the train if you don't let go."

"Of course, dear," Mrs Weasley released her, her cheeks an embarrassed pink.

"Thank you for having me," Hermione nodded to Mr and Mrs Weasley. "It was- Gah!"

Mrs Weasley threw her arms around her, squeezing her tightly to her. "It's not a problem at all, dear," she smiled before kissing her cheek.

_What the actual hell?! _Hermione wasn't really sure what she felt, other than uncomfortable. She was angry that Mrs Weasley just assumed Hermione was okay with being handled by a woman she had just met. It was as if she had no clue Hermione was capable of having boundaries, or she just didn't care. Hermione wasn't _her _child, and that-but on the other hand, it was...nice, maybe? To have an older woman give a damn about her, to be a priority-it was nice to feel cared for, wanted...but it also felt...Mrs Weasley was a complete stranger to Hermione!

_I can sort this out later, _"Right," she awkwardly squeaked, backing away. "Erm, thanks again for having me."

Mrs Weasley had then moved on to Harry, who also hadn't the option to initiate or back down. Though she did spare him the kiss on the cheek, leaving Hermione to wonder if it was because he was a boy or because she had more respect for his boundaries. Or both?

"Please feel free to write us about anything, Harry dear," Mrs Weasley beamed up at Harry and squeezed his shoulders. "We are always happy to have you and hear from you."

"Erm," Harry shrugged. "Thanks. For everything."

"Oh, actually, Harry," Mr Weasley placing a hand on his shoulder. "If I could speak with you-"

"Arthur," Mrs Weasley bit her lip.

"It's important, Molly," he replied.

The married couple stared at each other in silence for a moment before the much shorter woman gave a nod. Mr Weasley ushered an apprehensive, but curious Harry away from the cluster of Weasleys. Hermione was not the only one craning her neck to try and make out what the two were saying.

"Go on, you lot!" Mrs Weasley shooed them away.

Hermione turned to follow Ginny and the boys to the train when Mrs Weasley spoke again.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" she said regaining the children's attention. "That goes for you, too, Hermione, dear. You can write to me about anything."

"Erm," Hermione squeaked before nodding. "Thank you, Mrs Weasley. It's-erm-very considerate."

Hermione boarded with the Weasleys, all of them sniggering.

"I promise, she means well," Ginny assured her.

Ron scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You'd think she's looking to adopt you!"

"Are you surprised?" Fred asked.

"Mum nearly lost it when she told Dad you didn't remember having a mother!" George added.

"I, for one, would be happy if she claimed her," Ginny sighed. "Then I could have someone other than you idiots to talk to all summer!"

Hermione wasn't so sure of that. Mrs Weasley certainly made herself available as a maternal figure,which Hermione had overwhelming mixed feelings on. But she also felt a bit like a second thought. Like someone Mrs Weasley felt she should look after, apparently due to lack of a mother, but would happily forget to do so if that sense of duty didn't nag her into doing so. Mrs Weasley would no sooner adopt Hermione than her father would Harry. She was simply a second motherless child to be forced on her by her children, and one without Harry's talents or likeability.

_Are you done with the pity party, little idiot? _she chastised herself. "I don't know what you overheard," Hermione sighed. "But I'm no worse off for my father having raised me on his own."

"Are you sure about that?" a voice said from behind them.

_Not really, but as far as you know I am, _Hermione thought as she turned to see Harry adjusting his glasses and smiling awkwardly. "You're the worst, Harry."

"I know," he shrugged.

"Arse," Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked.

"Know-it-all," Harry replied.

The lot of them broke into laughter before Ron loudly groaned "Let's find a compartment, shall we?"

Fred and George broke off when they spotted Lee Jordan, leaving Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione to wonder for a compartment. Hermione wondered for a moment if they might find Luna and Neville around, but her pondering was cut off by the serious expression on Harry's face. Now that she thought of it, even when they were joking around a moment ago, he didn't seem all there.

"Is everything alright, Harry?" she whispered.

"No," he said. "I'll tell you as soon as the three of us are alone."

"Go away, Ginny," Ron jerked his thumb in the opposite direction.

"But-" Ginny looked at Hermione, perhaps hoping for a defence.

Hermione dug her nails into her hands and bit her lip. In truth, she thought Ginny should respect Harry's wish for the three of them to speak in private, but she also thought Ron was being a complete prat about it. She wondered if he had any respect for girls. Hermione searched for ways to say this exact thought without inviting a shouting match or insult, but as she was looking for words that would shut both avenues down without hurting either party too much Ginny spoke.

"You're an arse, Ron," Ginny snapped before stalking off.

Hermione had the sneaking suspicion maintaining a friendship with both siblings was going to prove difficult.

_Resent your father as much as you want, but he would have spoke his mind long before now..._

Hermione peaked into the next compartment and still had no luck. The next one was not empty as well. Though instead of being full, there was on dosing, thin man with pale skin and greying brown hair. Or she hoped he was dosing. The man clutched a small trunk to his core like a child with a comfort toy or blanket. He seemed, oddly familiar. She couldn't be sure though. He wore old, faded robes, too lose for his thin frame with patches sewn here or there. Where did she see-the man on the cliff?

_Please, please be him, _she pleaded silently. If it was him, then he didn't jump. If it was him she didn't abandon someone who needed her-okay not her, but someone. She wasn't quite sure, but she hope gnawed at her. Though, if she was wrong, that was dangerous.

"This might be the best we got," Hermione whispered.

"Who do you reckon he is?" Ron asked.

Hermione slipped off her shoes and crept toward the hunched over man. She noted the familiar peeling lettering on the scuffed-up trunk, and without getting too close, crouched to examine the man's face.

Her heart nearly leapt. The pale, thin man _was _the man on the cliff. He had the same cheekbones, pointed nose and sharp chin, the same grey cast to his pale skin, and though his eyes were closed, they seemed to be the same shape. _He didn't jump! _Relief from a month of self-torment flooded her brain and the hope was no longer dangerous, but justified. He was fine. He didn't jump. He didn't jump and she didn't-he was fine! Well, alive.

She softly landed before him as she let out a huge breath.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked helping her up. "He's not dead is he?"

"No," Hermione breathed. "He's just sleeping. Quite solidly, it looks," she squinted to read the peeling, faded lettering on his trunk. "His name's Remus John Lupin-or according to his trunk anyway." _Wait? _That _Remus Lupin...would he still be friends with...no, Dumbledore wouldn't-because he's made such good hiring choices in the past!_

"Hermione?" Harry asked. "You're sure you're okay?"

Hermione rose to her feet and turned to face her friends, casting one errant glance in Lupin's direction. _At least he didn't jump. _"I'm fine."

"Good," Harry said leading them to the opposite bench. "We need to talk about Sirius Black."

Harry told them what Mr Weasley said to him. Sirius Black was, indeed, after Harry. Or according to Mr Weasley he was. Hermione felt bad that the only reason Mrs Weasley agreed to let Mr Weasley tell him was because Harry had overheard them arguing about it.

"He didn't say whether or not Black was friends with Dad though," Harry admitted. "Suspected ties with Voldemort-Seriously, Ron?"

Ron whimpered at the casual throwing around of Voldemort's name. Hermione's reaction wasn't so overt, but she'd forever remember being five-years-old and her father grasping her shoulders with shaking hands _YOU MUST NOT SAY THE DARK LORD'S NAME!_ The fear in his eyes while he said that-Harry might judge them for being cowards, but children raised by wizards were conditioned to fear the name, some as soon as they were old enough to string syllables together. Things that happen when you're that young...at least that image of her father shouting in fear stuck with her._  
_

"Why did you think he was friends with my dad anyway?" Harry asked.

"Because," Hermione inhaled. "I renewed disciplinary files from when Black and our fathers would have been in school. Black and your father's name appeared together. _A lot." _ She then pointed to the slumbering man. "And his. I would be very careful. I think it's entirely possible the three were mates in school and had a falling out before they grew up. It's really common." _Or Black was too far gone and they realised it too late._

"No one's going to touch Harry, Hermione," Ron declared. "Not while we're with him. Or under Dumbledore."

"Because Harry's been so fucking safe before under Dumbledore's care!" Hermione hissed. "Just watch your back, Harry. If you can stay out of trouble, I'll tell you everything I find out."

"You know I don't go looking for trouble," Harry said. "It just _finds_ me."

"Harry will be fine," Ron sighed. "Won't you mate?"

"Don't plan on being anything else," Harry shrugged.

"So, we're just going to ignore we're sharing a compartment with a potential friend of Black's?" Hermione said, eyeing the man. _He seemed so nice in Japan. He's probably not still friends with him. I'll have to keep an eye on him._

"You just said that people don't always stay friends with their school mates, Hermione," Ron groaned. "Do you know how to relax? If so, you really should."

"But-"

"Listen, Hermione," Harry said. "Dumbledore has always kept us safe. Even after things happened. He came through before anything could happen. I don't reckon he would hire someone whose fixing to kill his students."

"But Quirell-"

"Hermione," Harry said. ""Listen to me, please."

"I'm listening," Hermione sighed.

"You told me I was in danger, and I'm not fixing to do myself in. And I trust Dumbledore not to put me in danger. After everything, you should too."

"So," Ron said after an awkward silence. "I can't wait to go to Hogsmede. They have all sorts of different sweet shops, and there are these floating sorbets and there's this pub students are allowed in that serves butter beer. Oh, and Fred and George told me about this joke shop where you can go and-" Ron looked at both Harry and Hermione, who were staring at their feet. "Erm, you know Hermione, Hogsmede is the only all-wizarding settlement in Britain, and is rumoured to be the most haunted. Even you could get behind that. And, Harry, aren't you excited to go?"

"I couldn't get my uncle to sign the permission form," Harry grumbled, cradling his chin in his hands.

He looked so sad, but Hermione bit her lip. She thought she had a way to fix this. She held out her hand and resigned herself to lonley weekends. Harry and Ron would be happy getting up to whatever mischeif in Hogsmede. That would be good enough. "Give it here. Have they ever seen your uncle's signature before? Do you have anything with his writing?"

"I forgot you were good with a quill!" Ron whispered. "You're a genius, Hermione!"

"Here's the slip," Harry handed it to her. "How'd that spell you taught me go again? Oh! _Accio Christmas letter."_

Hermione took what Harry so generously called a 'letter' and started studying the slant, shape and flow of Vernon Dursley's writing. Though the content made stung. If Hermione had ever felt unwanted, her father had done a much better job at hiding it than the man who asked his nephew if it was possible for him to stay over the summer holidays as well. Did the Dursley's not care at all about Harry's well-being? She set up her inkwell and quill ready to forge Vernon's signature when she a realisation came upon her.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione bit her lip and clasped her hands. "If Sirius Black is after you, then being out in the village might not be a very good idea. It could be dangerous. I-I can't in good conscience-"

"Good conscience?" Ron scoffed. "Harry will be the only one in our year who can't go."

"No, he won't," Hermione shook her head.

"Oh, really?" Ron snorted. "Who else then?"

Hermione turned to Ron and raised an eyebrow. "Me."

"What, why?"

Hermione cleared her throat and lowered her pitch as much as she could. "'You must be mad if you think I'm letting _my _little girl traipse around the village unsupervised while that maniac is on the loose.' Or something to that effect."

"That sounds just like him," Harry laughed.

"I know, right?" Hermione said.

"If you're upset about it why don't you just forge his signature?" Ron challenged. "Or can you not do that in 'good conscience' either?"

"Now, why wouldn't I forge my father's signature to leave school property on a regular basis when he's a _teacher _ at said school?" Hermione said. "Gee, I wonder!"

"It was just a question," Ron groaned. "You sound like Snape."

"Oh, that's-"

"I _really _wish you two would stop!" Harry groaned. "Hermione, listen, I-"

Harry was cut off by a sudden squeal of the train as it jolted to a full stop, lurching all three forward.

"We can't be there yet," Hermione mused.

"Then why'd we stop?" Harry asked.

"You don't reckon-" Ron swallowed and pointed at the sleeping teacher.

Neither Harry nor Hermione had time to ponder Ron's whispered question when the train was plunged into darkness. A frosty chill filled the air and Hermione could just barely make out puffs of frozen air leaving their mouths. Hermione grabbed her wand when she heard the door slide open and footsteps-two people?-come in.

"Who's there?" she asked.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice squeaked.

"Ginny?" she asked lighting her wand.

Ginny and Neville peaked inside the door, their faces pale and eyes wide and worried. Puffs of air escaped their lips too as they looked around the cabin.

"Are you okay, Ron?" Ginny asked. "I was looking for you."

"Yeah," Ron nodded.

"Come in," Hermione whispered. "Both of you. Close the door behind you and be quiet."

Ginny and Neville exchanged a look of frightened confusion before squeezing next to Harry and Ron.

_Please don't let it be what I think it is, _Hermione thought gripping her wand tightly and wishing she still had her cat-vision. The idea of a dementor being anywhere near her again made the blood freeze in her veins, and her heart pounded in her chest. She stood, hand shaking, at the ready. She tried to push the thoughts swirling around her brain, the memory of the dementor attack and the chamber had to be ignored. She at least new she wasn't responsible for the suicide of the man beside her. That alone made it easier to keep the other memories at bay. If for no other reason, she could forgive Dumbledore Lupin's appointment. She could function now, or be as close to functional as she was before the thought crossed her mind.

A wispy silhouette glided across the compartment window, causing the others to gasp. Hermione might have gasped herself if her breath didn't freeze in her throat. The form stopped at the window and placed a skeletal, grey hand on the frosty glass.

Harry and Ron reached for their wands.

"Stay down," Hermione forced the words out in an unauthoritative squeak. _Trauma makes people vulnerable and i__f the dementors had that affect on _me_, than Harry, Ginny and Neville would be fucked..._

Neville clung to Harry, and Ginny to Ron, making it difficult not to do as she said. She caught all four of them staring at the window as the door slowly slid open.

_1,_ 2,_3_... she shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. She thought of that balmy night out in the bamboo forest. The prematurely opened yellow flower in the starlight, Hiro's warm hands entwined with hers, the flutter of her heart as he lowered his face to hers and his lips gently pressing against hers. It was a bit timid and awkward as hell on both parts, and other kisses were better as they became more sure of themselves, but it was that first sweet, awkward and strangely perfect kiss that filled her with joy. And now, at least when she needed to, with the man on the cliff-Lupin- very much alive, she could delude herself into thinking she a connection like that.

The door slid open fully and Hermione opened her eyes, crying "Expecto Patronum!"

Silver wisps more solidly than Hermione ever produced left her wand and interrupted the black tendrils surrounding the grey, skeletal hand reaching out for them. The thing backed away, not so hurt it would back down, but she managed to repel the single dementor. Unfortunatley, Hermione knew this was no more than a stalemate at best. It became harder to hold that that the longer she kept her spell up-she was hesitant to call the amorphus silver wisps a patronus- to focus on that single happy moment. And she could feel herself growing tired, weaker. The energy that she had to expend to keep the spell up was more than she had anticipated.

"What the-" a familiar hoarse voice said.

_Don't take your eyes off the dementor, you know how dangerous it is to let your guard down. _That was precisely the wrong thought for Hermione to have as the image of decaying, grey flesh and an unhinged jaw nearing her face invaded her mind. She _did _know how bad it was to let her guard down because of that... _Don't think about that, you stupid little girl. People depend on you, what's _wrong _with you? _

_Late blooming Sakura on the breeze, the ocean, the bamboo flower, Hiro's hazel eyes and careless hair. You can do this...Concentrate._ Hermione bit her lip so hard she tasted blood and straightened her wand arm. She wasn't going to fail her friends when they needed her. She was done being a victim and a failure._ Think of something that makes you truly happy, hold that thought. Erase everything from your mind. Close your eyes. Breathe...1,2,3._

A thud behind her broke that concentration, and the silver wisps grew more transparent as she realised it was one of her friends collapsing. She had already failed one of them. Though she had never really been the picture of stability had she?

"Do you think Sirius Black is hiding under one of our cloaks?" the voice said and brighter, more solid wisps of silver launched at the dementor.

The black tendrils gave way to the silver ones, the black tendrils not just being hit but fading into smoky wisps. The creature seemed frightened of the m-Lupin's spellwork rather than simply repelled as it was by Hermione's. Without delay, the dementor turned, soaring down the corridor. First the warmth returned, then the light, and then the motion.

Hermione turned to see Lupin standing before her, green eyes wide, and beyond him what mattered. more. Ron hoovered over an unconscious Harry, Ginny sat with her knees to her chest in a corner, and Neville buried his head in his lap, covering his dark hair with his hands.

Harry's need seemed greatest. She ignored the man staring at her to kneel next to Harry's side and checked his pulse. He was alive, and the dementor didn't get close enough to-there was no way, right?

"He'll be fine," Lupin knelt on his other side. "Is everyone okay?"

Nods came from everyone, Ginny and Neville whimpered with their nods. Hermione was unsure which to turn her attention to next, Ron didn't leave Harry's side. Hermione saw Lupin approach Neville, whispering something to him, the round faced boy nodded and accepted something from him.

"I-if you hurt him," Hermione hissed in Japanese.

"It's chocolate," Lupin replied gently in Japanese. "You should have some too, komusume. It took a lot out of you."

"I'm fine," she said. She was feeling empty, and weak...like happiness was sucked from her. Again. _Always the victim, aren't you?_

"For a witch your age to cast a patronus, (_to call that a patronus you must think I'll let my guard down if you compliment me!)_," Lupin said. "It's very impressive that you held your own as long as you did."

He was sick, but there was an honesty in his features. She didn't feel like he was any less sincere than he was on the cliff, but she couldn't trust him. Neville watched the exchange, nibbling on the chocolate in confusion. Unable to prove the chocolate was anything harmful, Hermione turned to Ginny.

"Are you okay, Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"I-I-" Ginny rose to make eye contact with Hermione and dropped to a whisper. "It was like he was in my head again. Like the chamber..I-oh, Hermione!" Ginny flung her arms around Hermione.

_"Harry, it's a trap!" _Hermione wasn't ready for that, her mind sent her back to being silenced by Riddle-in Ginny's body- clinging to her. She hoped Ginny didn't notice her muscles tense, or her inhale sharply. It wasn't just Ginny that the encounter left shaken-Hermione didn't want to admit it. She didn't want to be weak...everyone in this compartment had it worse, what right had Hermione to-_stop it! Focus on them right now, deal with your shit later. _

Ginny released Hermione and returned to burying her face in her knees. Hermione recognised the guilt in her eyes before she disappeared under a veil of flaming red hair.

"Hey," she whispered placing an arm around Ginny. "Remember what your mum said, none of that was your fault."

Ginny nodded but whimpered.

"Here," Lupin offered Ginny chocolate. "It'll helps counteract the dementor's effect."

"Thank you, Professor," Ginny nodded, taking it gingerly.

Hermione eyed Lupin again, hunting for a trace of malice. Once again, she just saw the frail, unhappy but sweet man from the cliff. Not someone who would plot with a mass-murderer to kill a child. Or poison children that weren't his targets. And if any part of her thought he was suicidal, shouldn't she be nicer?

"Wh-what happened?" Harry's voice murmured as he stirred.

"Oh, Harry you missed it!" Ron said. "That thing came in and Professor Lupin woke up, he shot these silver things from his wand and the dementor went away!"

"Your little friend held it off for some time before I even woke up," Lupin reminded him before offering Harry chocolate. "Take it, it'll help."

"Thanks, Professor," Harry nodded taking it, and nibbling cautiously.

"It was pretty bad at first mate," Ron continued.

"_Awful, _more like," Neville muttered. "As soon as that thing got close, I felt this knot in the pit of my stomach, my heart dropped and I felt-" he trailed off.

"Like you would never feel happy again..." Ginny whispered.

"Yeah," Harry rubbed his arms. "I felt that too. I heard a girl scream, did anyone else?" Harry turned his gaze to the ground when others shook their heads.

_They already know you're mad,_ Hermione rubbed Ginny's back before kneeling beside Harry. "I've encountered dementors before, Harry. And I heard voices from my worst experiences every time."

"But you didn't faint," he grumbled. "You're sick, everything makes you faint."

"I fainted twice," Hermione admitted. "The only reason I didn't here was because I made my father teach me the patronus charm. And that wasn't even good enough to turn it away, as Ron said. Professor Lupin had to. You're not alone. And there's this thing, the worse an experience is, the more traumatic, the more dementors can effect you. And you-well, you've been through horrors we can't imagine."

"Everything she said is very true, Harry," Lupin said.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "How did you know my na-" he touched his forehead. "Oh, right."

"I'd like to know everyone else's names, if I could," Lupin asked helping Harry to his feet.

"Ron Weasley," Ron introduced himself and pointed to Ginny. "And that's my little sister, Ginny."

Ginny gave a weak wave as Hermione returned to sit between her and Neville. She put an arm around Ginny's shoulders and offered Neville her hand.

"Neville Longbottom, sir," he said quietly, squeezing Hermione's hand.

A silence passed between them as Harry and Ron sat on the opposite bench. Lupin took his original seat, probably picking up on Hermione's resistance to be too close to him. She felt bad when he looked away, ashamed, but she didn't trust him. She wanted to, but after what she read, she'd protect her friends if she needed to.

"I don't imagine komusume is your name?" Lupin forced a smile.

"No," Hermione said in English. "It's not."

"Hermione," Ron groaned.

"And komusume may literally mean 'little girl' in Japanese, but it's not something you call a stranger," she explained. "It implies a level of intimacy, like a niece or close friend's daughter, which I am _not_."

"I didn't know," Lupin explained, his voice even. "But if it made you uncomfortable, I'm very sorry. Is it okay with you if I call you by your first name?"

_What?! _Hermione's breath caught in her throat. That wasn't-he didn't call her out for the outright disrespect, or brush off her concerns. She'd only met Lupin once before, but he had to be the only grown-up to ever ask if she was okay with something. Her father, Mrs Weasley, every professor-adults just didn't ask if she was okay with _their _behaviour. Ask if she's okay overall, they did that, her father inquired to _others' _treatment of her...but this was..he had to be the first adult-no the first person- to express he wanted to earn her trust rather than expect it. What-what _was _this? She liked it, she hated it...she didn't know if she could trust it.

"Erm," Hermione really wanted to take back her hands to clasp them together, but opted to bit her lip and looked to the ground. "Yessir."


	43. B3:Ch6: A Matter of Time

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Hermione got off the carriage after Lupin into the tight throng of students making their way to the school, reuniting with friends who were on different carriages.

"Well," Lupin said. "I best be off. I look for-"

"Hi, Hermione!" a chipper voice sang and two arms hugged her from behind.

"Gah!" Hermione jumped and spun around and to see her younger friend. "L-Luna!" she squeaked.

Younger and now taller (or noticeably taller now, Luna had informed her she was taller than her before), it seemed. Luna Lovegood beamed at her, her large silver eyes shining in the lamplight, her dirty blond hair fell to her waist in soft waves and she wore her signature butterbeer bottlecap necklace, and her strange earrings of the day were navy ribbons tied into bows with bronze bells in the centre of them. Though underneath the broad smile, spring in her step and curated strange appearance, she seemed off.

_She was always pale, but she looks paler, _Hermione thought. "Luna are you alright?"

"Well," Luna's smile faded and she took Hermione's hand before catching Lupin over her shoulder. "You must be the new professor! I'm Luna Lovegood!"

"Professor Lupin," Lupin smiled. "It's very nice to meet you, Luna. I'll be off."

Luna had either forgotten Hermione's question or decided it was best not to answer. Hermione was the _last _person to criticise avoidance and let it drop. If Luna wanted to tell her, she would, maybe when she didn't have witnesses that looked at her like an unwelcome stray that wormed her way into their home. Neville spared her the uncomfortable expression.

_Oh, Luna, sometimes I wonder if Skylar and I are your only friends..._ Hermione thought. But a craning of her neck and eye scan told her that she might be off base in thinking the two were friends- she may have only been a year younger than Hermione, but she was three years younger than them. Did she ride to Hogwarts alone?

"If I knew you were taking the train, I would have looked for you," Luna said, without malice.

"I'm sorry, Luna," she said. "I thought I mentioned I was with the Weasleys in my last letter."

"We were on the move in Iceland quite a bit," Luna explained. "I mustn't have gotten it."

Guilt gnawed at Hermione once more. She wondered if she would ever get used to the feeling, it was familiar. She wished she had spied her at the station-but then remembered that she would have left her anyway. The dementors on the train...was Luna alone when they came?

"You look pale," Luna lowered her face to hers. "Are _you _alright?"

"I'm fine," Hermione shrugged with a smile.

"We're all fine," Ron gestured to the entrance. "Shall we go before we're late?"

"You don't care if we're late for anything but meals, do you, Ron?" Hermione sighed.

Ron groaned and rolled his eyes. "I'd be offended if that came from someone who divides _every meal _into _exact _thirds."

Luna turned to Hermione and blinked. "Oh, Hermione, I don't think that's terribly healthy."

"_I'm fine," _Hermione sighed again. "Let's go before Ron resorts to-no, I'm not _that _much of a bitch."

Ginny smirked. "I am! Let's go before my dear older brother resorts to cannibalism!"

Luna howled with laughter at this while others sniggered. Hermione didn't finish the joke, but seeing Ron's ears turn bright red, she regretted setting it up.

"Erm, sorry, Ron," Hermione turned her gaze to her feet.

"Sure you are," Ron snapped. "Grew up with a sister only a year younger than me and I had no idea girls were so mean!"

They entered the castle in relative silence, Luna either oblivious or not caring told began telling Hermione about her trip to Iceland. Hermione loved the animated manner in which she described the fjords, and the two mountains and the shimmering of the Northern Lights. Were it not for Hermione's guilt she might have been captivated. Though she couldn't help but notice that the others, unplagued by guilt, were not overly involved with the stories either.

"Is it true then, Potter?" a smug voice sneered behind them. "You _fainted?"_

They all turned to see Draco Malfoy's pale, pointed face smirking with an overly satisfied gleam in his pale eyes. He of course was flanked by his favourite goons, Crabbe and Goyle, whom Hermione could scarce tell apart. Of course that arrogant prat wanted to torment Harry. Hermione wondered how the fuck he got the information, but stepped between Harry and Malfoy, staring daggers at him.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron groaned before Hermione could speak.

"Excuse me," Luna losing the dream-like quality of her voice, joining in the glaring. "I'll have you know it's natural and I fainted as well."

Malfoy and his goons burst into laughter. "Well, if Looney Lovegood fainted, it's perfectly normal! You keep associating with worse and worse, Potter!"

Hermione's blood boiled. Malfoy's shit-eating grin churned her stomach. He thought he was so much better than everyone. Two years now he had belittled and mocked Harry for nothing more than being born into circumstances outside his control. He held himself over muggleborns like Skylar and Saiyaka, throwing racist slurs at them, mocked Ron for his lack of wealth, as if Malfoy had some control over being born with a silver spoon in his greedy little mouth, and mocked Hermione for her unknown origins. Now, he was insulting one of the kindest (and perhaps strangest) person Hermione had ever met.

"You might know the kind of hardships that lead to that if you weren't born with a silver spoon shoved so far up your arse we can see the handle out your bloody mouth!" Hermione yelled, voice more shrill than she wanted. "So you can go fuck yourself, you self-aggrandising, inbred cunt!"

"I'd ask if you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth of yours," Malfoy sneered. "But I already know the answer."

"Oh, I'm so fucking hurt by you pointing out the obvious!" Hermione hissed.

"I think you _are _hurt that Mummy left you," Malfoy cooed. "Is that the 'hardship' that leads to fainting at dementors, kitten?"

"I've met your dad," Harry said. "I bet the only reason _your_ mum didn't leave _you _is because of that silver spoon. Any woman with brains would have left you both a long time ago otherwise."

"Oh, did the subject of mothers sting a bit, Potter?" he laughed. "Mudblood bitch didn't-"

"I swear to God!" Harry seethed nearly leaping out from behind her.

"Harry!" Hermione blocked Malfoy, and Harry stopped in his tracks. "He'll just go snivelling to the teachers if you hit him. Don't get yourself expelled for this arrogant prat."

"I'd listen to the little stray, Potter." Malfoy sneered with a smug grin on his face.

"You know," Hermione turned to Malfoy with a cruel smirk. "I don't think I mind the cat comparisons. They're quick, clever, adaptable, always land on their feet and have brought entire species to ruin. Mark my words, little mouse, mess with _any _of the people behind me and you'll have _a very intimate understanding_ of how _this_ cat toys with her prey."

"Is that a threat?" he said, like everyone but Ginny, he had enough hieght on her that she had to look up at him, but she could still see the fear in his pale eyes.

"It's a promise," she hissed closing the gap between them. "Adapt or face extinction, Draco Malfoy."

Malfoy gulped before attempting to sneer down at her. Hermione imagined the prat was going to play the 'when my father hears about this' card. She knew how to counter it.

"If my father found out-" his voice cracked.

"Are you sure you want to play the father card with _her?" _Harry-Harry of all people!-asked. "You _do _realise she's the _one _person Snape favours over you, don't you?"

"Say, isn't he the head of your house?" Ginny mused.

Malfoy shrank under the leverage Hermione so rarely used. Hermione _hated _ falling back on her father's authority, and made a point to only threaten it when she was backed into a corner. And she never actually came to him for students antagonising her. She thought it was obvious he would placate Lucius Malfoy before punishing his son in her defence. Malfoy's narrowed eyes and clenched jaw told her it wasn't so obvious.

_But I had it handled, he used his last card, I knew how-Always have to be the hero, don't you, Harry?_

"Let's go, Crabbe, Goyle," he said. "Enjoy your social decline, Potter."

Hermione watched as the useless trio skulked down the corridor in silence. Once they were out of earshot Hermione felt the anger rise within her. She had it handled. Hermione was _done _being rescued by her father's authority. She was _done _being rescued by Harry. For once, she had a handle on things, she had control and now Malfoy would never respond to her threats again unless she invoked her father. Maybe it was that her nerves were frayed from fending off the dementor, maybe it was the way Harry always took Ron's side over the last two years, or maybe it was the dismissals piling up. Hermione wasn't going to be silent. She'd be kind, but she'd be listened to.

"You _have _to know he won't take me seriously after that, Harry." Hermione whispered. "Why would you bring _him_ up? I-I had it handled."

"He'll leave you alone for the time being," Harry wasn't as delicate about his volume. "I don't understand what's wrong with that?"

"Because I need him to take _me _seriously, Harry," she said. "I'm more than just Severus Snape's daughter."

"And _I_ know that, Hermione," Harry groaned. "But Malfoy doesn't. Listen, people like Malfoy respond to authority."

Hermione looked at Harry and there wasn't a trace of malice. It was just confusion, hurt and anger. She knew he meant well. "Malfoy responds to _power, _Harry. And you swooping in before he can even respond tells him I have none. You do understand that, don't you?"

"I understand I _helped _you," said Harry. "What I don't understand is why you're upset with me."

_Are you even listening to me?! This is a lost cause..._"I'm not upset, Harry," she sighed. "I'm just... _disappointed._"

Harry ran a hand through his untidy black hair and sighed. "Hermione, listen-"

"Well, well, well," a cold voice said from the stair case. "The six of you are taking quite a bit longer than the rest of the student body. I do wonder what has you so delayed."

Hermione's father stood on the steps, staring down at the six of them with an impassible expression on his pale face. Hermione tried again to decipher a mood from his black eyes, but found nothing but displeasure and exasperation.

"Sorry, sir," she said, quietly, her eyes moving to her feet.

"I doubt it's your fault," he stared daggers at Harry. "Now, it's fortunate that you are all together. Longbottom, and both Weasleys, you three are free to go."

Ron, Ginny and Neville cast a concerned look to the ones asked to stay behind before silently climbing the stairs to the Great Hall, giving her father as wide a birth as possible. He watched the three leave and he beckoned Harry, Luna and Hermione closer.

"We didn't do anything," Harry argued.

"Yet," he folded his arms over his chest. "But, for once, I'm not calling on you because you are in trouble. Astounded though I am that you could make it this long without doing so."

"Then why-"

"We haven't even started classes yet and you are already trying my patience, Potter," he snarled. "Professor McGonagall wishes to see you in her office. Hermione as well. And, Miss Lovegood, Professor Flitwick wishes to see you in his office."

"Thank you, Professor," Luna nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione."

Luna disappeared up the stairs and Harry began the long walk to McGonagall's office. Hermione followed but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder once they cleared the stairs. Hermione turned to face her father, his once impassible expression now replaced with one of concern and cautious relief.

"We got an owl about the dementors on the train," he whispered, lifting her face and scrutinizing it. "You look pale. Did one of them attack you? You don't look well at all."

"Dad," Hermione spoke slowly, and attempted to sound calm. "I'm fine." _I swear he thinks I'm four!  
_

"Your hands are freezing, love," he remarked as he lifted them to examine the bleeding crescent marks she reopened. He placed a small dark brown sphere in her hand. "I know you have strange little behaviours around food and I don't care. That should counteract some of the lingering effects. I suggest you take it."

"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, and placing it in her mouth. _I bottle-fed you once and I'll do it again..._She didn't think he meant it then, but she wasn't interested in risking his ire.

"I should have never sent you away from here," he sighed. "Tell me exactly what happened on the train. Now."

* * *

"Doing something dangerous again, I suppose?" The plump school matron interrogated Harry, scrutinizing him.

"It was a dementor, Poppy," McGonagall sighed. "The poor boy fainted."

"Dementors," Pomfrey spat. "And let loose around those who are already so delicate-"

"I am _not _delicate," Harry argued, recoiling from the touch.

"Oh, of course you're not," Pomfrey's tone was similar to the one she used with Hermione when she was little.

"Does he need the hospital?" she peered at them over her square glasses.

"No, of course not!" Harry argued. "I am fine, honest."

"Perhaps we just give you some chocolate-"

"Professor Lupin gave me some already, thanks," Harry said.

Hermione felt for him. Too often she had been scrutinized when she was fine. She wondered why she was there, but some spiteful part of her was happy Harry was being fussed over after that remark on the train. _You're sick, everything makes you faint. Welcome to my fucking world, Harry Potter! _Perhaps she was being a bitch, knowing he was well, her sympathy was blunted by that spiteful part. If he wasn't okay, if he wasn't going to be sent away without further examination just as he wanted, she might have felt differently. _Listen, Hermione-_ _This is what it's like not to be listened to, Harry. Maybe now you'll think about- _Ron's voice entered her head. _You sound like Snape...__Is it true? Do I sound like him? What if I'm just like him?_

"As you wish, Potter," Pomfey muttered. "I'll be off then, Min-oh!"

Pomfrey faced Hermione, as if she forgot she was even there. The attention Hermione so thoroughly enjoyed avoiding turned to her and she suddenly felt stupid about those thoughts she harboured.

"Potter was the only one mentioned in the letter, but your predisposition-"

_I can thank my father for this, _she thought bitterly. _Wait! I fend off the thing by myself for minutes and nothing?-Of course not, don't be so arrogant._ "My father already looked me over, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione explained. "If _he _thinks I'm fine-"

"Point taken," Pomfrey sighed.

"Thank you, Poppy," McGonagall said. "You'll want to go to Flitwick's office."

_Luna must have fainted as well...I hope she's okay..._

"You may leave as well, Potter," she leaned over her desk. "I have a private matter to discuss with Hermione here. Sit down, girl."

Hermione examined the thin face and beady eyes behind her square spectacles. The much older woman was no match for her father when it came in stoicism, but she was often hard to decipher. She seldom registered emotion before students, had a tight strict voice uttered from thin red lips, and her black hair with a shock of white at her temple was tied back into an equally severe bun. Hermione noticed her nostrils weren't flaring and knew she wasn't in trouble. So what was it?

_Oh, I am _not _having _that _conversation again! I can read, I have a parent if I needed to talk about it. Why can't you respect that? _Hermione prepared the 'this conversation already took place' speech as Harry left them alone and she took a seat opposite her.

"What did you want to discuss, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"It's about your classes, Hermione," she said.

_Oh, thank fuck! _Hermione let out a sigh and her muscles untensed. Classes. That was simple, easy. She could-

"What do you know about time magic?"

_What the hell? _"Erm," Hermione shifted in her chair. "It's highly complex, little understood and time-turners are the only widely available form of them. It's not possible to change the past with them because the time-turner functions in a closed time-loop. Anything the wizard does they have already done. And that some travellers have gone mad when they've seen future versions of themselves. I'm unsure how that functions with a closed time-loop though..." she admitted with a sigh. "I haven't read too much about it, I'm afraid, Professor."

McGonagall blinked blankly at her, she seemed surprised by Hermione's answer. Was she expected to know more? It wasn't like it was something covered extensively anywhere, and fascinating as it was, Hermione had no use for the subject, not when she had so much to do. Maybe she should have-_Why the hell am I doing this to myself? I doubt Harry and Ron know even that much. If she expects more, that's on her! Maybe..._

"I'm impressed," McGonagall smiled-a rarity. "I didn't expect you to know as much as you do."

"Impressed?" Hermione nervously wrung her hands. "That I'm literate and happen to know where the library is located?"

_It's impressive you held your own as long as you did..._ _Maybe I'm not being patronized? _

"I swear, y-" McGonagall sighed and shook her head. "Never mind that. Did your father tell you that your participation in the Japanese program would make taking some of your electives during the summer impossible and that that is what most students who take all twelve courses do?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione nodded.

"Then it should come as no surprise to you that you won't have the time to complete all of those courses, especially given your advancement?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione nodded again. She didn't know which subjects to drop. All of them could prove useful and she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life.

McGonagall produced a small hourglass encircled by three, intricate gold rings, and on a long gold chain. The innermost ring where the tiny hourglass was affixed had stars carved around it and a Latin inscription in an elaborate font could be found on both outerrings. Hermione had seen one diagram of this, this was a time-turner!

"The headmaster and I have written _many _letters to the ministry to request this time-turner, Hermione. We both swore that you were a very mature girl for your age and that you would _only _use it to attend classes. Any other uses of this device is _strictly _forbidden. Am I understood?" McGonagall stared not just at Hermione, but through her. The severe expression on her face told her she did not want to try anything outside the allowed circumstances. _But Harry and Ron always find themselves in trouble..._

"Yes, Professor," she said. "I'll only use it when absolutely necessary."

"We are trusting you with something very important, and where Professor Dumbledore and I vouched for you, we also face the penalties for any misbehaviour with the time-turner," she explained with a grave expression. "Promise me that you will be completely responsible with this."

_No pressure though, _"You and the headmaster have my utmost respect," Hermione said, eyes on her hands. "I promise I'll be _completely responsible _with this."

McGonagall pressed her lips into a fine line and narrowed her beady eyes before softening her expression. "Very well, young lady. We have everything faith in you. _Don't let us down."_

She had no intention of doing so, but her stomach churned at the thought of failing such profound trust. Hermione reflected on her own paradox again, she both wanted someone to have that kind of faith in her, but knew she didn't deserve it. What if she did let them down? Failed them? But this was academics, she knew how to handle that. She had perfect control over that, she knew how to control it. Hermione resolved to only use the time-turner as instructed no matter what came up. She could control this. _Or emergencies..._

"Thank you, Professor," she gingerly accepted the time-turner. _How can something so heavy be so light? _"Honestly, I'm surprised that you managed to convince my father to give permission."

"Oh, heavens no," McGonagall scoffed. "There was no way we were even broaching the subject with your father."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You require parental permissions to enter a village and medical consent forms for Quidditch (_Which Harry is exempt from somehow!), _but not for use of time-magic?"

"Well, it's not exactly protocol, is it?" she replied. "No, your father doesn't know and it's best we keep it that way."

Hermione slowly nodded, not liking the idea of hiding regular use of time magic right under her father's nose. He was bound to find out, and Hermione was not terribly keen on the 'conversation' that would follow. "I'll keep it secret, Professor."

"From _everyone,_" McGonagall insisted.

"I won't tell a soul, Professor." Hermione promised.

* * *

"You haven't started on the best foot have you, Lupin?" Severus hissed in the frail man's ear.

Lupin turned to face him, he barely appeared the same man he went to school with. Grey prematurely flecked his brown hair, and his pale green eyes seemed to permanently have blue rings beneath them, his cheek bones were too pronounced and his once rosy skin now had a grey cast to it. It was hard to believe he was only thirty-three.

"Erm," he bit his bloodless lip. "I'm sorry, Severus, but I don't know what you're talking about."

Severus clenched his jaw thinking of Hermione fending off the dementor while he, a grown-ass-man, slept through it only to swoop in at the last moment. His daughter was more generous, assuming he was ill, and claiming he'd saved them. _He does look ill, doesn't he? Wolf taking its toll, Lupin? You won't find sympathy from me. _"You slept through dementors attacking the train," he seethed. "It may come as a surprise to you, but I'll give you a little piece of advice from a senior colleague, we are expected to keep the students _safe_. Not let a frail twelve-year-old girl handle it until you feel up to the task!"

"Calm down, Severus," Dumbledore appeared behind them. "And I believe the girl is thirteen."

"_Regardless_," Severus rubbed his temples. "My point still stands."

"You're right," Lupin sighed, making eye contact. "We're lucky that girl knew the patronus charm at all. I'll have to be much more vigilant going forward."

"At the very least," he replied coldly.

"You'll have to forgive him, Remus," Dumbledore sighed, taking a seat at his desk. "His daughter was on the train this evening."

Lupin shifted uncomfortably in his own chair. The two of them sitting opposite Dumbledore in his office brought back memories, and not pleasant ones. He seemed to be aware of that, judging by the guilty twitching of his mouth. _At least you're capable of feeling guilt! _

"Is she okay?" he asked.

"She's about as well as to be expected," he folded his arms over his chest. _Who the fuck are _you _to enquire after her welfare? If you did your damn job-no, I don't-I_ DO NOT _care what lycanthropy and the abject poverty has done to you. You slept during the attack and that was my baby you put at risk. _

"I'm sure you two know why I've summoned you here?" Dumbledore asked, peering over his half-moon glasses at the two of them. "I understand that there is an uncomfortable history between the two of you. I expect you you both-" he cast a withering glance to Severus "-to be adults about it. It will not effect your work."

"Yessir," they both said, sounding more like boys than men.

Severus moved his eyes to examine Lupin. The sickly appearing man did not completely lose his zest for life, leave it to a Gryffindor to hold out hope long after it was gone. He seemed sincere in his concern about Hermione, and the man masked any malice toward him very well. There was an evident discomfort in his shifting, and he eye contact didn't come easy, though unlike in his youth, he did venture it with hesitation. Perhaps it was hard to look a man you tormented in the eye. Lupin was never an instigator, but was complacent. He could never forgive him for that. And as for that night seventeen years ago...that was Black's machination, Lupin was not capable of controlling his actions...not that that could erase the howl that pierced the night, nor the werewolf's bared teeth nearly a metre away. Nothing could erase that.

_It was a harmless spot of fun, sir...Fuck you, Black. I could have died, or been made a werewolf myself. _

"Severus has promised to keep his silence about your condition, Remus," Dumbledore explained. "And every month he will be preparing the Wolfsbane Potion like we discussed in our correspondence."

"I am a busy man, Lupin," he said. "I expect you to take it from me on time. I won't go chasing after you."

"Understood."

* * *

"Severus, wait!"Lupin ran to catch up with him.

_Since when the hell are _we _on a first name basis? _"What could you possibly want of me now, Lupin?" he turned back to see an abashed Lupin.

Lupin ventured eye contact, a painful sincerity in both his eyes and voice. "I wanted to thank you," he said. "I know that-erm-this can't be easy for you-"

"_Easy?" _he scoffed. "Working with and treating the man who tormented me through boyhood, and nearly killed me, or _worse _and was best friends with an escaped mass murderer. You think 'not easy' describes that, Lupin?"

"No," Lupin sighed. "I suppose it doesn't do it justice. Everything we did to you back then, it was horrible-"

"Oh, of that I'm quite aware," Severus replied icily.

"Severus, listen-"

_Listen? _He just wanted to get away from him! The sight of him made his blood run cold, his presence made him relive those memories. Nothing could change that. Lupin made his life miserable and stood to do it again. And he wanted what? For Severus to _listen_ to him?

"People like you," he seethed. "I don't mean your condition. I mean self-righteous, arrogant idiots who think themselves the hero because they can feel a modicum of sympathy-and that's somehow different from the rest of us. You are _always _asking for us mere mortals to listen, as if pleading for peace should earn you it. You did it then, I see it being done with my daughter, and you're doing it now. So, no, _you _listen to _me. _You say you are grateful for all I'm doing, I believe you, and you seem genuinely remorseful. That does _not_ make us friends. If you're looking for absolution you will _not _find it with me! I suggest you learn to live with that."

Lupin recoiled as if he'd been physically struck. The sickly man looked pathetic, only slightly shorter than him, but a hell of a lot smaller, and his gaze moved from him to his scuffed shoes. He wasn't prepared to hear it, and Severus could find some satisfaction in the impact his words had. The idiot deserved it, after everything he'd done to him. Not just nearly killing or turning him, but every humiliation, every last scrap of dignity stripped from him-he had worked so hard to regain that dignity, to regain a sense of-hell, he didn't know. But Lupin's pleas for friendship were at best in horrible taste. He could only hope his words hurt half as much as they seemed to.

Lupin could take his offer of friendship and shove it up his arse. True, Severus hadn't any, but he didn't need any. Not after Lily. If his relationship with his daughter was the only meaningful relationship he ever had moving forward, that was fine. He survived this long with her being the only worthwhile part of his life, he could go another twelve years.

"I understand," Lupin said. "I'm sorry. I'll leave you be."

_Would Lupin...? No, he's 'one of the good guys' in his own books, he wouldn't harm a child unfairly because her father-What about Black? _"Lupin, wait."

"Yes?" he turned around.

"I want to make one thing abundantly clear," Severus leaned over his shoulder to his in his ear. "You are at _my_ mercy. _I _know your dirty little secret, _I _brew the potion that keeps you from becoming a literal monster. Keep that in mind during your lessons, because if I even get an inkling that you've done _anything _to harm my daughter, if you make her vulnerable in some manner to your old mate, I will not hesitate to exact vengeance in kind. _Stay the hell away from her."_


	44. B3:Ch7:Revelations before the First Bell

_November 2, 1981_

_The scene at the Potters' place of residence was one of heartbreak and horror as well as hope. Lily, 21, and James Potter, 21, are survived by their infant son, the boy who lived, Harry Potter,1. The young boy was entrusted to the care of his maternal aunt Petunia Dursley, 24, a muggle. The bittersweet celebrations of our world are not felt by everyone as tragedy struck the Pettigrew family and devastated the muggle community.  
_

_We advise our younger and more delicate _(_There's that word again, _Hermione thought bitterly) _readers that the following descriptions might be found disturbing.  
_

_"Muggle witnesses report that Sirius Black, 21, came howling down the street, challenging Peter Pettigrew, 22, with a mad look in his eyes. He charged the smaller man, shouting 'You will pay for everything you've done, you pathetic bastard!' and threatened he would wish for death after what he'd done. This is when witness reports get murky. Some of the muggles claimed that Pettigrew cast various spells (they described wand movements and light) while others attributed the majority of offensive spells cast to Black, who all agree instigated the fire-fight. _

_Chaos erupted on the scene, and thirteen muggles lost their lives. The oldest being a 90-year-old widow by the name of Ethel Wickham and the youngest a ten-year-old boy by the name of Tomas Purdy. _

Hermione took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. A ten-year-old, Sirius Black had killed a defenceless child. There were no mentions of the other eleven muggles killed, and nothing further honoured Wickham or Purdy. It felt as though those two _murder victims _were name-dropped just to depict how hienous Black truly was. Hermione hated to admit it, but it worked. A little boy and a little old lady, the only way it could have been worse is if Purdy were a baby rather than a child. She had no clue what either of them were like, but knew they-and the other eleven lives lost-deserved to be more than just props for Sirius Black's villiany. She bit her lip and read on.

_Black cast the last spell, because the witnesses were muggles, we cannot say the spell used, but witnesses report Pettigrew vanished before Black tore off howling into the night with thirteen corpses on his heels._

_"It was a blood bath," says Auror Mimi Shirai, 20. "When we went to investigate the crime scene, it was carnage. The muggles weren't just killed with the killing curse, many of the victims had slashes and burns on their bodies. It was beyond cruel. A number the muggles our obliviators saw still carry the trauma of what they witnessed-_

Hermione stopped reading again, trying to imagine what would be like to be so thoroghly altered by an event you couldn't remember. She felt for the oblivated muggles, she couldn't speak to seeing a murder, being marked by it and forgetting the actual event, but she could to the ways memory alteration and the knowledge _something _was missing could mess a person up. Anger and sympathy gnawed at her, this never should have happened to any of them. That little boy should have been alive, an adult by now, and what of his parents? If they survived and witnessed their little boy's death-Hermione shuddered to think of how that procedure might have effected them. They all should have been alive and well, Harry should have had his parents, should have been raised by people who loved him. Sirius Black destroyed countless lives, including people she was close to-and her father, she had every intention of figuring out what made this personal for him. The way he glowered at Lupin when he was introduced all but confirmed there was something she was missing between Black's old school mates and him.

_The things I had you copy were the _tamer _of his lot's deeds...The truth is James Potter ruined my life and I wasn't about to let his son do the same to you..._Hermione mused on the conversation at the end of first year, but was no closer to answers. _He said he thought I was too young to handle the details and that he didn't want to revisit it...Could I get information from Lupin? Focus on the task at hand... _She read on knowing information on Black had to come before her father's past, and she still was torn on Lupin himself anyway.

_"There are just somethings that obliviate and denial can't bury, I'm afraid." Shirai goes on to describe the gruesome scene. "When our men combed the scene to discover what happened we were shocked. Among the corpses we found a single index finger belonging to was all that remained of the young man. Not even ashes remained. We gave the remains-if you could call a single finger that-to his mother and only living relative. Her dead son's Order of Merlin was cold comfort in the tragedy of it all. We are pursuing Black as a top person of interest and won't rest until he is paying for his atrocious crimes in Azkaban."_

_We advise all citizens to be on guard. If you see a man matching Black's description, do not hesitate to contact the Aurors by owl. They will not stop until you are all safe and sound!_

Hermione reread the article, only a finger was found. Thirteen by standers including a child murdered. She wondered what the cause of the altercation was, that might help her figure what he wanted with Harry. She wasn't dismissing that he could be a Death Eater. In her research of pureblood families to find the heir of Slytherin the previous year, she read about the Blacks. One of the "Great Eight" pureblood families, and several documented ties to not only Blood Purist groups but also directly to Voldemort. A cousin, Bellatrix LeStrange, and her husband were confirmed Death Eaters serving time in Azkaban. Black's younger brother Regulus was also part of the fold. It wasn't a stretch, Hermione thought. She wished the article were less sensationalist and more thorough. Though it was an on-going investigation at the time. However, the press didn't follow up on the matter, at least not for before 1983, and she didn't want to spend all morning in the library before classes. She resolved to get back to it later. She copied the article from '81 and placed it in her bag before she went to put the original back.

"Hi, Hermione!" Luna beamed.

"L-Luna?"

It wasn't yet eight and Luna stood at Madam Pince's desk, waving and inexplicably happy. Hermione hadn't expected to see anyone but a begrudging and tired Pince eyeing her with deep suspicion. Yet, there she was, and clutching a thick volume to her chest and inexplicably happy as the hawk-like Pince hoovered scrutinized her.

Hermione then understood why she was there, she recognized the thick volume clutched to her chest, she had spent a great number of hours with it after the incident by the lake. Luna, like Hermione before her, sought security in the form of a book. It relieved Hermione that there was someone else on the planet that did that.

"We are in a library, girls," Pince shushed them, before pushing her cat-eye glasses up her aquiline nose.

_We're the only ones here! _"Sorry," Hermione whispered.

Luna and Hermione left the library together, Luna hooking her arm into Hermione's as they walked down the corridor to the Great Hall.

"Are you alright, Luna?" asked Hermione, remembering that when she collapsed, she very much wasn't.

Luna nodded, still smiling. "I'm still not quite well," she admitted with a sigh. "The dementor didn't even enter my compartment, but as it brushed by I relived-" she inhaled and turned to face Hermione. "When I was eight-years-old I saw my mum die. She was trying to make a new spell-and things went _very _wrong. It was just me and Mummy. Daddy found me with her hours later when he came home from work. I remember begging her to wake up. I was eight, so I didn't really know what to do."

Hermione stared at Luna, whose veneer of cheeriness vanished, her face adapting a seriousness she had never seen on her before. Tears didn't form, and she didn't frown, but Hermione could see the pain in her eyes, in the line between her blond eyebrows, and her unsmiling lips.

Not knowing what else to do, Hermione rubbed her shoulder with her free hand. Hermione could picture a little Luna crying next to her mother's corpse, scared, confused and overwhelmed with sadness. A pang formed in her heart as she processed what Luna was telling her. She watched her mother die as a little girl and stayed with her body for hours. A knot formed in Hermione's stomach faced with a problem she couldn't fix, she wasn't even sure she had anything comforting to say. All she could do was listen and hope it was enough.

"Nobody really likes me," Luna sighed. "You don't have to lie to me, Hermione, I know it's true, and it usually doesn't hurt. But because of that was alone when they came. The lights went out, the air grew so, so cold. It was like my world was suddenly plunged into darkness and I couldn't get out no matter what. I tried to hang on to a certain memory, it can sometimes fight the meaner things I think about myself when other kids make fun of me, but then it was like I was there all over again. W-watching her die, trying to wake up my dead mother. Next thing I knew, I was on the floor alone, the lights were back on and the train was moving again."

"You were all alone until we got to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Luna nodded before turning to Hermione with a weak smile. "I'm glad I could find you before the feast. It helped."

"Yeah," Hermione smiled back. "Not sure what you find comforting about our lot, but I'm glad we could help even just a little."

"Did you faint too, Hermione?" Luna asked. "If Harry and I were called for that reason then you must have been too."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Not that time at least. I was called to-" _Keep it secret- from _everyone "-erm-there was worry that I over-exerted myself when I attempted the patronus charm-I know, stupid girl trying something so beyond her capabilities-but I had to do _something_. Granted, I was fine. I was able to fend it off for a little bit, and Lupin woke up in time to cast an actual patronus charm. I'm grateful here was there." _In more ways than one, I'm certain I would have fainted if I still thought myself responsible for him jumping-God, I'm such an idiot!_

"He seems nice," Luna mused. "You and the Weasley twins still doing a DADA pool? I think this one might stick out the whole year. I hate the Jinx on the job, I have a feeling he'd be great."

"You might want to wait until he's taught one lesson before you say that?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

She adored Luna's unfiltered personality, but she seemed hasty in everything. Luna immediately decided for Hermione that they would be friends, she remembered her leaping up on to the archives table and leaning in close with bizarre observations. She instantly made snap decisions about her other friends, Harry was okay, if self-involved at times, but he was a good person, Ron was very funny but also very mean and-actually, those were the only two she vocalized opinions on.

"You know, Hermione," Luna's dreamy quality returned to her voice. "You're very kind, but I don't think you like to let yourself trust people very much."

"That's not true," Hermione argued, knowing the next words to leave her mouth were lies. "I trust you, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, my father, loads of people."

"I think you want to," Luna offered a smile.

Hermione loved and hated Luna's insight. How could she be so oblivious of phrases and how to conduct herself socially while still knowing exactly what was in a person's mind at the same time? How could she lie to herself when Luna kept calling her out on it?

* * *

"Where did you run off to this morning?" Ron asked. "Library?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat between Harry and Neville. "Actually, yes."

"It's the first day, and we haven't even gotten our timetables yet," Ron groaned.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "And how does my behaviour effect you here?"

"We were just curious," Harry shrugged. "What were you reading up on?"

Hermione scanned the table with her eyes. Ginny sat beside Ron, Neville sat beside Hermione. She didn't want to advertise that she'd been researching Black to anyone but Harry and Ron. "Just a bit of last minute reading on our new subjects," she lied. "I'm happy to tell you and Ron about it later."

"Why-" Harry started before something clicked. "We'll meet you after classes, then?"

"Yeah," Hermione nodded.

"Why would we want to know about it after classes?" Ron asked.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Harry shot a similar knowing glance his direction to which Ron replied: "Oh, yeah, that's good."

Ginny looked at the two of them rather annoyed, narrowed her eyes at Hermione and returned to her meal. Probably feeling rather left out. Or insulted that Hermione though she couldn't read 'private conversation' in her words. Maybe she should have just said she'd tell them later without the obvious lie. She wanted to speak to Ginny about giving Luna a chance, but she felt their newfound friendship was already sailing turbulent waters.

She turned to Neville, looking better than last night, but not by much. His face was solemn and he picked at his food with the enthusiasm of a corpse. He was rather quiet, while Seamus and Dean chittered away. Normally he'd say _something _to _someone _at this point, and Hermione had the distinct feeling he was silent all morning.

"How are you, Neville?" she asked.

"Erm," Neville murmured. "I'm okay. Yeah, I'm okay. Honest."

Hermione bit her lip. He wasn't okay, but she had no clue whether to press him was bad or not. If it were her, she would just want people to believe her and leave it alone until she figured it out for herself. But she knew some people wanted help before they were ready to ask for it. She'd known Neville for years, and felt like a terrible friend for not knowing which he was. _No, I respect you too much to pry._

"Okay," she offered a smile and placed a sympathetic hand on his arm before whispering. "I believe you, but if that ever changes, I'll be there. You're my friend and I _want _to listen if you ever need me to."

Neville looked at her with great surprise, his round face flushed pink and his blue eyes grew wide before he averted his gaze. "Erm, thanks, Hermione."

_I pushed too far...Why else would he look at me like that? Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry. Stupid piece of shit, you should have kept your mouth shut. _"Sorry, Neville, I didn't mean-sorry." she whispered, looking at her clasped hands.

An awkward silence was thankfully interrupted by McGonagall passing out timetables to each of them.

"Bullocks," Ron groaned. "We have Care for Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. You're lucky you don't have to have classes with Malfoy, Hermione. I wish I was pushed ahead two years."

_You'd crumble under the pressure, Ron, _Hermione opted for kinder words. "At least you have two years to prepare for the OWLs. Fred told me a girl in a year above us left her exam in tears and dropped out. I guess they're really hard," a knot formed in Hermione's stomach and she spoke before she could stop herself. "I wish I had till I was fifteen too. I just know I'm going to fail everything without that time." _Failure isn't an option!_

"Oh come off it," Ron groaned. "Haven't I told you you're not allowed to moan about failing until you have one mark below an 'EE'?"

_Not those words specifically..._"That's fair," she sighed. "I don't think I'm hungry, I'll just-"

"You keep letting Ron chase you off by being a bloody prick and you'll never eat," Ginny spoke up for the first time since she sat down. "Stop being a prat, Ron."

"Shut up, Ginny," Ron groaned. "And if Hermione thought I was being a prat, she'd say so. She was never shy about it before, were you?"

"That would imply you've listened to me, Ron," Hermione sighed. "But it doesn't mat-"

"Hold on a minute," Ron said eyeing her schedule. "I think McGonagall made a mistake. How are you supposed to attend three classes at once? I didn't think you'd eat or sleep this year when you signed up for all of the classes, but bloody hell, even you're not that good."

"I'll go talk to McGonagall about it," Hermione lied. "Erm, thanks for pointing it out, Ron. See you, Harry, Ginny, Neville."

Hermione took off and wasn't quite out of earshot when she heard Ron-of all people!- mutter. "I worry about that girl sometimes."

"I'd worry about her a lot less if she wasn't friends with you," Ginny challenged. "You know she isn't well."

_Great, Ginny does think I'm mad, _she thought.

* * *

"I'd like to speak with you," Severus placed a hand on Hermione's head. "Come along, Hermione, we haven't much time."

"Y-yessir," Hermione wrung her hands nervously and stared at her feet as they made their way to the nearest empty classroom.

Hermione shrank next to the shut door, under the thick veil of her hair he could tell she was digging her nails into her hands again. She made herself as small as she possibly could. Hermione, it seemed, knew exactly why he had called after her (or one of them, he'd also intended to issue a warning about Lupin). She knew her behaviour was unacceptable. Yet, he felt pity for the tiny girl before him, trying so bloody hard to fade from existence. Only Hermione could send him from boiling anger to a crippling pity and guilt. He wondered if other parents were similarly conflicted between the urge to set their child straight and comfort them when they misbehaved. _Indulge her and she'll never learn..._

Though, she was always such a nervous little thing. This was the child who wouldn't speak in front of anyone before she could form simple sentences. So, he had to remind himself that her behaviour wasn't exactly a guilty plea.

"I imagine you know why you're here?" he said, lifting her face.

Hermione's eyes widened and she looked away. "No, sir."

"Allow me to refresh you memory then," he said. "At least a dozen students and staff heard your little outburst last night. Did I not tell you not to pick fights with Draco Malfoy? Did I not tell you that things would not go well for either of us if you did? Not to mention that exciting new little addition to your vocabulary. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Well," Hermione bit her lip and averted her gaze once more. "Erm, I-"

"_Today, _Hermione Elizabeth," he said.

Hermione inhaled sharply. "I don't think you care what I was thinking."

"Were it rhetorical I would not be waiting for an answer!"

Hermione sighed and averted her gaze once more. Whatever defiant spirit possessed her from time to time left, perhaps to come back later on. "It won't be good enough for you, Dad," she sighed. "My reasons never are."

That mixture of anger and crushing guilt crashed over him like a tsunami. He was her father, she had no right to speak to him in such a manner. After everything she put him through how could she? But it also forced to the front of his mind every time he had ever come up short or worse. Did she truly feel that way? Did he lead her to think so? There had been so many times he could have handled things better, but to-no, no if she acknowledged her reasoning was never good enough she knew it was inexcusable. And yet...

His thoughts were interrupted when Hermione slapped her forehead and muttered something under her breath. She looked as if she couldn't believe she had just said that aloud, and judging by how she buried her face in her hands and returned to shrinking before him, he imagined he was right. Had she not done that he might have admonished her for her cheek, but knowing that she had not meant to say it-it meant she actually thought that he wouldn't care whatever her reasons were.

"Try me," he sighed, gently placing a hand on her head.

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip and shifted her eyes from the ground to him. "Malfoy started antagonising Harry and-"

"Hermione," he said, lifting her face. "Do you not think you've done enough for that boy? Have you given enough of your time and energy defending him? I am only saying this because I want what's best for you, love. Is Harry Potter _really _worth all of this trouble?"

"Harry's my friend," she said in a small, but determined voice.

"And what has he done for you lately, love?" he asked. "Because it all seems incredibly one-sided from where I stand."

"He saved my life, Dad," she explained, her face falling from determined to disappointment

Must she always to look at him like that? He didn't like it when she was angry with him, the defiant fire in her eyes as she glared at him, or snapping at him, but he could live with it. He knew how to respond to her anger in different situations. However, he couldn't take that almost pleading look in her eyes, as if she were begging him to do better, but knew he wouldn't. That resinated sigh that accompanied that look so often. It was as if she wondered why she even bothered to hold out hope. Hermione may have adopted the phrase 'not angry just disappointed' because she was uncomfortable with expressing, and, he at least thought, feeling rage, but the irony was when deployed with sincerity, he was the one person that worked on.

_That and her tears, _he thought. _Doesn't even matter what emotion accompanies them. The minute she figures that out, I'm done for...  
_

That too had its own irony. Hermione did everything she could to appear calm, collected and in control whenever she was observed, no matter who the observer was. She had everything she needed in her little hands to devastate him, and she was either too ignorant or too decent to use them. He hoped for the latter. Yet, he paradoxically wished she would let her guard down around him as well.

"My gratitude is dampened knowing he was also the reason you were in danger in the first place," he sighed, lowering to her eye level and placing a hand on her head. "Listen, love. Outside of attacking the boy, I couldn't care less what Draco Malfoy does to Harry Potter. But if the boy is antagonising _you, _I can put a stop to it. Do you need me to address the issue?"

"No, sir," Hermione shook her head.

That 'no, sir,' was a slap to the face. Independent to the point of self-destruction, turning away offered help. No matter how much she needed his help, she didn't want it. Didn't trust it. She never sought his help, even as a small child, but turning him away when he offered help-no, this wasn't as new as he wanted to believe.

"Very well," he sighed. "I will hear no further complaints of you calling Malfoy or anyone else for that matter by that term. I expect an essay on the origins of the word next Monday. I imagine handing something like that into you _father _will serve as a very powerful deterrent from using it in the future."

"Yessir," she nodded.

"Now that we've wasted enough time on your abhorrent behaviour," he rose and folded his arms across his chest. "I wish to speak with you about Professor Lupin."

"Is it because he was friends with Sirius Black?" she asked reestablishing eye-contact.

_She knew? I doubt Lupin volunteered the information. Have you gone digging up information on your new professor again, little girl? _"Actually, yes. Am I to assume you and Miss Lovegood were sifting through old papers in the archives?"

"Erm, actually I just remembered it from the files you had me copy two summers ago. If I read it, I remember it."

_History says otherwise, love. _"He might not have been in as many disciplinary files, but believe me, those two were _very _close. Lupin," he looked around the empty classroom before dropping into French. "Don't ever make promises to powerful people against your better judgement, ma fille," he muttered rubbing temples before continuing. "Lupin wasn't initially very popular, so once he was brought into the fold of Potter and pals he tenaciously held on to them, simply grateful to be involved. I can't speak to whether he had a moral compass before, but he certainly didn't afterwards."

Hermione bit her lip and shifted her gaze, her brown eyes growing in size before she covered her mouth. "That actually sounds really sad."

_Of course, tell a girl isolated from birth till her eleventh birthday of a boy with a similar predicament and her response would be pity not caution. _"Pity will forever be your undoing, won't it, love?" he sighed brushing a lock of hair from her face. "You give your sympathy too freely to the undeserving, and _Lupin does not deserve an ounce of it. _I'm telling you this for not to garner pity for that repulsive man but to emphasise my point. Remus Lupin might have been in Gryffindor, might have been clever and talented, but the boy had no backbone. Which made it very easy for Black to persuade him. I have little hope anything changed now that he's grown other than the increased stakes. Listen to me, Hermione. I don't know if he has kept in touch with Black while he was in prison, but I _do _know this: If Sirius Black contacts Remus Lupin, he will bend and _you _will be in very real danger."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and bit her nails (he thought she grew out of that a long time ago!) looking rather deep in thought, he recognized the doubt and suspicion in her face. She lowered her hands to clasp them together, digging her nails into her skin. "Dad," she inhaled and spoke cautiously. "Why would _I _personally be at risk?"

_So, so many reasons, love. _ He suddenly felt the weight of every part of himself that he kept from her. It shouldn't have mattered, what parents openly spoke to their children about hardships endured during their own childhood? It wasn't something he was keen to revisit, and she would never look at him the same way if she knew. He was her father, he was supposed to be a source of guidance, comfort and security. He knew she didn't see him that way often, and any trust she gave him was fragile, but if he showed that level of vulnerability she never would again.

"Let's just say Sirius Black had a particular distaste for me during our school years," he explained. "It went beyond your typical school rivalries. I can't trust he's forgotten it, as much as I wish he did. And you-" he sighed looking at his daughter's expectant face. _She's so small and fragile...how could anyone look at her and see anything other than an innocent child in need of protection? _"You've been used to get to Potter before. Being friends with him puts you at risk. If either man had an objection to taking a child as a hostage, Black could easily rationalise doing so simply because I'm your father. Black wouldn't see you as your own person, but as an extension of myself. Seeing a child that way makes it easy to justify a number of cruelties."

"I'll be vigilant," Hermione promised in a small voice. "I promise."

"And you'll avoid Lupin outside of classes," he instructed. "If he tries to get you alone for any reason, come up with an excuse and report directly to me._ I don't trust him_."

The first bell rang, echoing through the classrooms stone frame and corridors signalling the ten minutes before classes commenced. His timing was awful, her behaviour could have gone another day unremedied.

"I'll let you know if I see anything suspicious, Dad, promise," she rose to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I have to go."

He watched her take off at an alarming speed only children on the brink of being late could muster. He'd already threatened Lupin, and the way Hermione looked at him before the bell rang, she had to have taken him seriously.

_ My precious little girl, I won't let any harm come to you. I failed you last year, it won't happen again._


	45. B3:Ch8: Helluva First Day

Hermione's hell started with the ringing of that damn bell. She had to be in Divination, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy without running into herself or her father. She should have told McGonagall that her father's paranoia would make their little secret difficult to keep. How the hell did he do it? It was like he wasn't interested enough and too interested in her life at the same time. He treated her like a baby and expected her to behave like an adult, which she had already known, but it was especially frustrating now. She never knew what to expect from him, would he leave alone or be hoovering over her like an oversized bat? She wasn't sure she even cared that he meant well anymore.

_At least it'll be easy to hide from everyone else. I'm invisible to Harry and Ron unless I'm of use. _She combed over her schedule to triple check the room numbers. Divination, North Tower, Ancient Runes, a floor up, and-her goddamn father! Arithmancy happened to be the nearest classroom to them when he caught her attention. Even fate hated Hermione!

_I don't think I believe in past lives, but I'm pretty sure I must have been someone _terrible _to deserve this! _Hermione sighed putting her timetable in her bag. She'd take Arithmancy first, get somewhere secret, go back an hour and attend Divination next, then Ancient Runes. She watched her father leave from an alcove and joined the group of students that filed outside the door.

Arithmancy, Divination, and Muggle Studies weren't terribly popular compared to Care for Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes, so instead of two neat lines of students from different houses, Hermione saw a cluster of students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Well-she saw _one_ Gryffindor. Angelina Johnson spoke animately to a lanky Ravenclaw boy with curly hair and dark eyes. She caught Hermione and waved her over.

Angelina was a pretty girl, and like the boy next to her, was tall herself but with an athletic build and dark brown skin, round brown eyes and long black hair divided into a million little braids that were then pulled back into a pony tail. This would be one of very few interactions with out the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan hanging around in the background.

"Josh," Angelina smiled to the Ravenclaw boy. "This is Hermione, she was advanced to our year last year. Hermione, this is my boyfriend, Josh Cohen."

_I wonder how George is taking it, _Hermione wondered, knowing the second born Weasley twin had fancied Angelina since their first year. It was painfully obvious, but she could feel bad for George without judging Angelina, right? She didn't know, and even if she did, she didn't owe the lovesick boy anything.

Hermione sat beside Angelina, happy to have someone she knew with her. Angelina and Josh talked about Quidditch, Both were chasers, and more excited for the next match than curious about the class. Hermione remembered that she was the only one who had never actually taken any of the classes in the room. She'd studied and taken a levelling exam for each of the electives while she was in the hospital.

There Hermione was, two years younger, small for her age and outmatched in every way by those around her. She took a deep breath and opened her copy of _Arithmancy: Interpreting the Past, Present and Future through Numbers _and began re-reading the first chapter. She couldn't let herself fail here. She was good at maths, good at academia. Being younger was no excuse..._Why did my father _do _this to me? _

"Books away, you two," Professor Vector, a middle-aged witch with wiry dark hair, and intent brown eyes, stood at the front of the room, with a neutral expression on her face. "You had the summer to read the first chapter."

Vector had a reputation for being difficult to please and a tough marker. Hermione had of course seen her passing when she was little, but she never got the measure of the woman before her. She needed to make a good impression and she blew it. She turned to see who else tried to brush up before the lecture.

A very tall and thin Hufflepuff girl with strawberry blond hair with a pink flower behind her ear. She too looked for her fellow insecure classmate. The two exchanged awkward smiles before turning their attention to the professor. Hermione took surreptitious notes on the lecture.

"And who can tell me how to use the Pythagorean Method to determine the meaning of a dream?" Vector asked. "Anyone? No?" her eyes then landed on Hermione. "Oh, come on, you lot, don't make me ask the little girl."

_Shit! _Hermione shrank as small as she could make herself and clasped her hands together, when all eyes turned to her. _Why is my hair so damn bushy, I stand out everywhere I go. Let me sink into the floor. I'll happily have someone turn me into a cat and succeed this time. I'd run very far-_

"Still no one?" Vector sighed. "Miss Snape?"

"By determining base factors of the querent, such as their name, their parents' names and date of birth. Add the numbers assigned to each Greek letter for each name, add the date and then divide by the sum of three key dream features," Hermione mumbled. _That's it! I must have been Grindlewald in a past life!_

Vector smiled at her, but her widened eyes suggested mild surprise that Hermione had gotten it right. "Down to the last detail. Colour me impressed. That'll be five points to Gryffindor. Everyone pair up! We'll be doing dream analysis for our partners!"

Angelina of course paired with Josh. But she was the one person she knew and it hurt to be left alone again. She should have expected this. Every time people were paired, every scrambled to partner with their closest friends. Since first year, Hermione was a partner to be avoided unless they thought they could coast while she did all of the bloody work. _They're a couple, if Hiro were here you wouldn't give anyone here a second thought. _

"Ooh!" The tall Hufflepuff girl waved. "New girl!"

Hermione made her way over to the girl. Hermione was torn between pity and jealousy looking at her. She had a beautiful heart shaped face, freckled ivory skin and silky strawberry blond hair that fell past her shoulders, and beautiful blue-green eyes, with broad shoulders, despite her willowy frame and despite being only fifteen stood at two meters tall. Hermione had never seen her before, though her time last year was a blur. Her pity stemmed from this girl's similar experience of being ignored by every classmate in the scramble for partners. Why else would she call out for 'the little girl'?

"I'm Deirdre," she said.

"Hermione," she took the chair across from her. "I haven't seen you around last year, are you new?"

"Not really," Deirdre shook her head. "I didn't come back after the holidays-I-erm-had a lot going on. You're not new to this class then?"

"I wasn't advanced into your year until after the week before the holidays," she explained.

Deirdre and Hermione set to work. Deirdre volunteered as a querent first, which Hermione was more than happy about. She described a dream where she 'tamed' the Whomping Willlow. Hermione ran the equation with 'tame', 'Whomping Willow' and 'harmony' as key words form the dream. Listening to her speak, Deirdre was rather like a tamer version of Luna (debunking both ginger and Irish stereotypes). She had a dream-like quality to things she said, but she never seemed as out there as Luna. Though, she also seemed happy just to have someone listen to her. She wondered why she opted for something as rigid as arithmancy.

"I love the Pythagorean Method," she mused setting up her chart for Hermione. "Working with sets of nine is so satisfying. It's like a complete crossword or sudoku. And the only thing more satisfying than a complete crossword is-"

"A well-played game of sudoku!" both girls giggled before Deirdre commenced.

"So, what did you dream about last night?" she asked.

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip. She could remember two. The recurring one from the chamber that she was not interested in speaking about to-well to anyone. But her other dream was personal. She thought the dream, Hiro kissed her rather more passionately than in real life against a blossoming sakura tree. It was a rare pleasant dream, but very deeply personal. She decided to make up a dream about transforming into a cat-human hybrid. It happened from time to time, so it wasn't an outright lie, and despite the negative emotions attached to it, Hermione could easily realy it. She was numb to the pain of her body contorting, and the humiliation of being seen like that, or the disturbing residual effects that still lingered. Hell, she even _missed _parts of it, particularly the hearing, vision and coordination.

"We already have your father's name," Deirdre asked. "What's your mum's?"

"Erm," Hermione hesitated, digging her nails into her hands again. She knew this was coming, but she wasn't at all prepared for the question. It must have been so easy for some, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat whenever the subject of mothers came up. Was she abandoned? Whoever she was, she could have been dead, but simply didn't know. Surely, her father would have told her if her mother were died? No, especially after her father's stunt with the forged letter, Hermione was dead certain she'd been abandoned. _Who could blame her? _

"Hermione?"

"S-sorry," she said. "I-erm-I don't know who she is."

"Oh," Deirdre bit her lip before raising her hand. "Professor Vector?"

"Yes, Delaney?" Vector approached the girls with her clipboard in hand.

Deirdre waited till Vector was close enough that she didn't have to speak very loudly. "Hypothetically, what do we do if we don't remember one of our parents' names."

Vector picked up the chart Deirdre worked from and explained the process of calculating for a margin of error and analysed the relevant information. "Miss Snape? Is everything else here accurate?"

Hermione skimmed it over. Father's name, Severus Snape, mother unknown, date of birth, 1, September 1980...She made up the dream, so the key words were probably where they went wrong. She gave a stiff nod. "Yes, Professor."

"Very curious..." she tapped her quill. "I can't seem to make sense of your numbers at all."

* * *

"And on the first day, too?" Severus sighed. "Perhaps a Hippogriff was a poor choice for a pack of students who've never dealt with any magical creatures before?"

"I tol' Malfoy not to be insultin' them, Professor," Hagrid insisted.

Severus knew it was probably true. Draco Malfoy may have earned his pity, but he could be such a little shit at times. And as always when it came to his behaviour, it fell to Severus to do damage control. A child was injured on an unqualified, half-giant Professor's very first day. Lucius Malfoy would call for Hagrid's dismissal, for Dumbledore to be investigated for his appointment and probably the death of the creature in question. It was times like this he _despised _being head of Slytherin house. He was so tired of running interference.

"I really don't care if Draco Malfoy leapt over a barricade with a thousand warnings, Hagrid," he said. "I believe _you're _the adult, here?"

The man towered over Severus and was twice his width, but Hagrid could have been a mere centimetre tall at those words, his already ruddy skin deepening in colour beneath his bushy black beard and hair. This man's judgement was always so remarkably poor, he suddenly remembered why we stopped entrusting Hermione to his care when she was little. _This is what happens when you hire a man who saw no problem taking a six-year-old into the Forbidden Forest._

"I don't know if I could have done stopped him," he admitted. "An' everyone else seemed to understan' no' ter insult them. Malfoy jus' got all petty because Harry-"

"It always comes down to that boy doesn't it?" he seethed. "If Potter prompted the behaviour, I have to wonder why you were unable to prevent it. I thought you were the one adult in this damn castle the boy listened to! You could have easily silenced him. I'm going to see if I can convince the boy not to demand retribution from his father. Pray I manage that impossible task, because I don't know if I can stop it once the gears start turning!"

He entered the hospital wing to see Malfoy whimpering while Pomfrey prodded at his broken arm. It was difficult to tell if he was sincerely expressing pain or if he were engaging in Melodrama. It was by no means a serious injury, but it was a break.

"You're lucky, Malfoy," Pomfrey observed.

"Lucky?" he squeaked.

"It was a very simple break. It'll be mended in no time."

His pained gasp and grimace were very sincere when Pomfrey realigned the bones before mending it with a tap of her wand. However, Pansy Parkinson was very much indulging in melodramatics, almost wailing while crooning over Malfoy.

"Oh, I hope they sack that worthless oaf for doing this to you!" she cried.

_Damn it, Parkinson! _"I've already spoken with Hagrid on the matter, Miss Parkinson," he said before turning to Malfoy. "As head of your house, Draco, I'd like your account of events when you're up to it. It falls to me to explain to your parents you were injured during class. Accuracy is important." _If I can get him to stay quiet I can omit whatever details I see fit.  
_

Draco Malfoy had a penchant for theatrics, something Severus forgot over the summer. The boy loudly condemned 'that oaf' and painted a picture where he was purely a victim of a viscious beast that had been screeching and bucking from the moment students were in view of it. Judging by the crack in his voice at points, he thought it was entirely possible the boy was actually afraid of the creature, but it was also clear by the shifting of his pale eyes, he knew he was exaggerating and outright lying. It didn't matter, once the narrative was set anyone who called him out on it was clearly on Potter's side, and if Severus cast doubt on the boy himself it was simply to appease his daughter. How wonderful to have such a casual relationship with the truth.

_Dumbledore would never sack Hagrid, _he mused. "I see," he said to a rather nasty glare from Pomfrey. "I shall inform the headmaster on the issue and I assure you it will not go unaddressed."

"That old git isn't going to do anything," the boy sulked. "I wish _he _had been sacked last year. The board of governors talked about it."

"I think you would find his replacement to your distaste, Draco," he sighed. "Now, as I have previously stated what power I do have is at your disposal. This was highly inappropriate and I can assure you it will not happen again."

Malfoy's face broke into a smug grin that reminded him too much of the boy's father. "I don't imagine it will after my father hears about this!"

_Fuck! _"If that's your prerogative, Draco," he said with a forced smile. "I shall write to your parents. Let's hope you can heal up before the Quidditch match." _I do hope Hermione is fairing better._

* * *

"Hi, Skylar!" Hermione waved sitting in an overstuffed chair at a round table.

Skylar Sloan was a willowy Hufflepuff student with an ovular brown face, amber eyes on highset cheekbones and wavy black hair falling past their shoulders. They were quiet and often moved with a bounce not normally accompanied by one who was alone as often as they were. Between their appearance and the melodic Welsh lilt to their voice, part of Hermione thought Skylar was objectively the most beautiful person she met. Not in the sense that she liked them, but in the same way she recognized Ginny was exceptionally pretty or Saiyaka was cute without having a romantic interest in either of them.

"Surprised to see you in Divination," they said. "I figured you'd shy away from something so-well, out of your control."

Hermione gave a nervous laugh. "You've known me half a year and already know my deepest flaw. I _hate _not knowing every aspect of a thing. I don't know how everyone else does it."

"Blind trust in the world around us," Skylar teased. "Definitely no happy medium between comfort with uncertainty and complete control."

"I don't _need _complete control," Hermione sighed.

"No?" they smiled. "You've just made an equilateral triangle with our tea cups and the crystal ball, kitten."

Hermione looked down at the table, and dead centre of the circle there it was, an equilateral triangle, the crystal ball the "top" point, while the two bottom points were the bone china teacups on saucers. How had she not noticed she'd done that? She knew before she sat to study she arranged her quills, inkwell and parchment to be parrallel with each other, but to absent-mindedly make triangles-_the time-turner is making me nervous. _

"So, is Trelawney as overly dramatic as they say? I never really saw her around growing up," she assumed a calm tone.

Before Skylar could answer a slender bug-eyed woman with coke-bottle specs and wild grey hair wrapped in at least three beaded shawls came to the front of the room. "Welcome back, dears!" she said in a dramatic voice. "As happy as I am to see you return to us, I'm afraid I have seen in my visions dangers for some of you. Yes, consulting-" she lost the dramatic dreamy tones and found Hermione sitting with Skylar. "Oh, are you in the right place, dear? This is a fifth year class. Third year divination is taught before lunch, dear."

"Erm," Hermione clasped her hands together and stared at them as all eyes turned to her. "I was actually placed two years above level, Professor." _If you didn't receive a message from the great beyond, you might have at least checked the register!  
_

"Oh, of course, dear," Trelawney smiled. "Endowed with knowledge as I am, it can still be surprising to see one so little among the OWL students."

_Little? I'm only two years younger than them! I bet you and my father get along wonderfully! _

Trelawney proved Hermione wrong when she hoovered over their table while Hermione tried to gaze into a crystal ball. All she saw was mist swirling around in the confines of the ball. She had her book of omens open for reference, yet every time she thought she saw something, it would disappear before she could be absolutely certain.

"I had a feeling your second sight would be blunted, dear," she sighed. "When you were a baby you didn't have the same sensitivity as others did, and your father certainly didn't foster development for what little talent you had. I'm sorry, dear, but you might be out of place here."

Sniggering could be heard from every direction of the room. Skylar was literally the only person in the room not laughing or exchanging whispered comments. Hermione wasn't looking forward to the comments that would follow her when she left the classroom. She wasn't terribly attractive or charismatic, those were automatic strikes against her, she was small for her age, let alone theirs, and she was the daughter of the least liked teacher. Trelawney just gave them one more reason to torment her, which they all seemed to love doing.

Trelawney looked around, her bug eyes growing even further in size as she covered her mouth. "Oh, my dear," she gasped. "Everyone settle down. Oh, my dear girl, I'm so sorry."

_Maybe _you _don't have the same sensitivity as others! Because even with my 'senses so blunted' _I _knew that was how they'd react!_ "It's fine, Professor," she sighed readjusting her book of omens and note book to line up with the crystal ball.

* * *

"Not sitting with any of your housemates?" O'Malley asked.

Hermione cast an eye to her two long-term bullies Ivy MacDonald and Violet Vane, two of the girls responsible for turning her into a cat-human hybrid in the previous year. She thought she was over the humiliation of it all, she was when she talked to Deirdre about it, but she felt it open again as she endured their teasing in line before class. She was just happy they hadn't gotten word of what happened in Divination yet. _It didn't happen yet...oh, god are they going to question how I was here and there at the same time? I might have made a huge mistake...  
_

An hour, Hermione had been using the damn thing for one hour and she was already so nervous about it. No one was so oblivious as to not question how she was in so many places at once, even for someone who was only visible to be of use or a magical punching bag. _My father...he's going to put it together...I have to be very careful._

The Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan were the only Gryffindors in that year she really spoke to. And none of them took Divination or Ancient Runes. She was honestly surprised they were taking something like Ancient Runes when they didn't seem interested in reading anything beyond gossip columns in the _Prophet. _She hated that people could be very popular, pretty and still be smart. It seemed so unfair, _L__ife's unfair. Some of us have everything and people like me have to fight to exist. I'm starting to understand that now._

"Ivy and Violet?" Hermione asked innocently. "I don't think there's enough booze on the planet to make those two anything less than insufferable."

"Wow, sunshine," he laughed flicking her forehead. "You're so cheery in the mornings!"

Hermione rolled her eyes sitting next to the older Slytherin boy.

Damien O'Malley looked like a disowned Weasley, tall and lanky, with a freckled face and flaming red hair, though his eyes were an impossibly piercing blue rather than Ron's light blue or Ginny's deep brown. He tied his long red ringlets in a ponytail and spoke with an Irish lilt. Though he and Deirdre certainly sounded like they were from different regions.

"It's a talent," Hermione sighed.

Professor Tran was an unremarkable looking man in his mid to late thirties (she guessed), and was neither tall nor short, fat nor slim, with neatly arranged black hair, and warm brown eyes. He didn't demand control the way Vector did, or claim it with theatrics the way Trelawney did. He sat at his desk and waited for silence, which came after fifteen minutes or so.

Hermione suspected either this or arithmancy might have been her favourite subjects. She loved learning about the symbols and their origins from different cultures. She adored translating from different modern and dead languages and seeing the differences between how each spoke of certain matters. Not only that, but from years raiding language books in the library, but from being exposed to other languages early on, Ancient Runes, like Arithmancy came _easy _to her. Hermione wouldn't give herself an excuse to reduce her effort, she'd surely fail if she did, but she did relish in the feeling. _Nothing _came easy to Hermione. She had theory of so many magical subjects down to the point she could recite it when asked, but practicality...she didn't know if it were her emotional state, the fact that her bloody father was right about her complicated relationship with sleep and food, her young age or just pure lack of talent, but she had to work twice as hard as her peers to produce the same results.

By the end of the class Hermione was the first to fully translate instructions on magical amplification rituals from a fusion of futhark runes, Ogham and ancient Greek. Something she dared to even be a little proud of when she handed it in to Tran, seeing that no one got past halfway done before she wondered if she had done something wrong. Maybe it wasn't so easy.. _If I'm that ahead, I must've done something wrong._

"Can I get you to stay behind for a bit, Hermione?" Tran asked, looking over his reading glasses.

_Oh, dear god, I did do something wrong!_

"O-of course, Professor," Hermione nearly squeaked, nervously wringing her hands. _Get it over with, Tran._

"I was surprised when you completed your translation on your first day," he explained combing over the translation. "I'm throwing OWL level translations at you lot and am marking to the same standard. It's standard practice for fifth years. Given your age and lack of in-class experience, I was prepared to make some exceptions for you."

Hermione bit her lip and dug her nails into her hands. What was he getting at? How horribly did she botch it? She tried to pace her breathing but could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She hurt, but Runes? If she failed this, something she thought went easy for her...Was she a failure?

"You've made a couple of grammatical errors-"

_Failure! I knew it!_

"But other than that, you have a damn near perfect translation. Better than most OWL level students at the right age , if I'm honest," he smiled.

Hermione drew out a long breath, relief unfurling her muscles. However, she wondered- "Erm, professor? If I didn't make any big mistakes, then why am I here?"

Tran peered at her over his reading glasses before smiling. "Because you have to pick a career path after this year, and it'd be a waste with talent like this not to consider Arcane Archaeology. Think about it, Hermione. A talented witch like you could go very far in the field."

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip unsure how to respond to what he'd said.

She hadn't put _any _thought into her career. She didn't know what she could do, let alone what she wanted to do. She just turned thirteen and she had to have her whole life figured out? Did anyone else her age? She thought about asking Harry and Ron, but there were more pressing matters to speak with them about. Hermione would have to wait, she was used to waiting. It was fine.

* * *

_I'm exhausted, _Hermione thought as she sat opposite Harry and Ron. They both looked quite grim, pale and a deep pensiveness in their eyes. It wasn't often Harry displayed fear, but the nervous tapping of his chin, and his uneven breaths suggested a trace of fear among the grave seriousness.

"What happened?" Hermione whispered.

"In Divination," Harry explained. "Trelawney saw a grim in my tea leaves."

_A grim? I don't trust her, but I can't dismiss it, _she thought of stories about averting predicted futures and resolved to spend her time in the evening looking into it. "Trelawney predicts a death every year. According to Skylar she likes to be extra theatrical with each new batch of students she receives. She peddles in tragedy. If you two pretend to see death omens and misfortune in all your assignments you'll probably receive top marks."

"But no one's survived after seeing a grim," Ron argued. "I heard stories of people who saw them and died right on the spot. Died of fear."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Then those people died of fear, not because of the omen, Ron. These omens and rumours, they can take on forms of their own when they've gotten enough traction and-"

"I'm telling you I saw it too!" Ron said. "Harry had a grim in his tea leaves and an escaped murderer is after him!"

Harry shifted uncomfortably and brought his eyes up to meet them. "I reckon I saw one in real life too," he admitted. "During the summer I after left the Dursleys'. It was this great black thing, it looked a lot like the grim. What if Trelawney isn't just being theatrical?"

"You saw one?" Ron's voice rose above a whisper and his eyes grew larger. "Mate, that's-no one survived seeing a grim, no one."

"Is it ever delayed?" Harry asked running a nervous hand over his fringe.

"I dunno, mate," Ron grimaced.

Harry shifted uncomfortably again before picking at his rice. Of course Harry believed it, he had nearly died five times before they were even teenagers. Harry walked a delicate line, he was the only person Hermione knew that excepted his days were numbered. He didn't embrace it with fear or paranoia, nor did he give up on obtaining happiness. It seemed Harry just tried to live his life, but knew to wait for the signs. Hermione's distaste for Trelawney grew.

"Harry," Hermione spoke gently. "I agree that you should be very careful. I've done a bit of research into Sirius Black, and-it's disturbing. I don't want you to let your guard down. But I'm not ready to accept Trelawney's words as truth. I had her earlier today and I don't really think she's capable of what she claims. Be careful, but don't treat her word as gospel."

"You think she's a fraud?" Harry asked shifting his eyes. "But Dumbledore hired her."

"He also hired Lockhart, Harry," Hermione sighed. "I won't pretend I understand his reasons, but I can't think Dumbledore's beyond reproach after everything that's happened. I think he's brilliant, and I know he's not a bad person, but I don't trust him."

Ron sent his blue eyes to heaven with a boorish groan. "You don't trust anyone."

"Th-that's not true!" Hermione squeaked.

First Luna, now Ron? Hermione shifted uncomfortably wondering if she'd ever be able to get anyone to trust her when she was painted as suspicious and paranoid by those she cared for? She picked at her rice and began dividing it into three white mounds as she mused on what to do next. Given the grim, even if Hermione didn't trust it, she probably should give Harry the article now. She originally wanted a more complete picture so they could avoid acting without all of the pieces. She could give them information as she found it, she didn't need a strategy for disseminating information, she wasn't her father.

"I've copied this from the archives, Harry," she passed him the news article on Sirius Black's crime. "I'm going to dig in the archives a bit more this evening. I'll also look into death omens and averting them. I still don't think Trelawney's word is worth hanging anything on though." _And it's not just because she decided to make my life that much more miserable than it already was._

"Do you have time to do all of that?" Ron asked. "With all of your classes, I can't imagine you have much."

"If Harry's life is on the line, I'll make time," she explained rising from her spot. "I think I'll go look into it now before my next class."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said reaching out to her. "I'll meet you in the library after classes. If we both look into it, it should be less of a-erm-burden."

_This isn't homework help, it's literally life and death...The Dursleys really fucked you up, didn't they? _Hermione tilted her head and offered a smile. "Hey, you're my friend. You could _never _be a burden."

"I'll help too!" Ron volunteered. "It'll be just us three like the good old days."

_Good old days? For whom? _Hermione smiled at Ron with a shrug. "I'll hold you lot to it. I'll see what I can dig up in the mean time."

* * *

"First day and I've already lost your attention, Miss Lovegood?" Severus sighed. _Why can't my daughter make friends with good students? _

Hermione had incredible taste in people, a mean-spirited, insecure boy in Weasley, an arrogant prat in Potter, a complete dunce in Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood was a complete headcase. Lovegood being the most harmless of the lot didn't ease the dilemma he was faced with daily: remedy the casual disrespect and face his daughter's ire or ignore it.

"Sorry, Professor," she adjusted in her seat and made eye-contact with him. "I was just thinking about the laughing solution, why does it exist? I mean if the cheering charm exists, it's quite silly to spend so much time on a potion when you can achieve the same thing with a charm in seconds, isn't it?"

_You need a filter, Lovegood. _"No," he sighed rubbing his temples. "What's silly is you wasting my time and that of your classmates with such an impertinent question. Had you spent half the amount of time reading the text as you did chasing urban legends, you'd know that the two serve very different roles. One is meant to induce a shallow sense of happiness through forced laughter to be used to re-establish a baseline before attempting more profound procedures. The other is to be used to induce an instant and again shallow sense of happiness by flooding their mind with positive emotions. That one is to be used on despondent people or those in immediate crisis. Or do you suppose those are the same as well, Miss Lovegood?"

Sniggering erupted from the second years around her, which Lovegood promptly ignored with a shrug and a wistful smile. It was strange. He sometimes got the feeling the lonely girl followed his daughter around, but she never seemed to make an effort with her peers. He taught this strange girl for a bloody year and he couldn't place her. She seemed to sincerely not give a damn at the laughter directed at her, or harsh words meant to hurt her. It irked him.

Perhaps it was because he grew up in her position, being universally loathed, and was uncomfortable that he couldn't fathom her motives. No one could live like that and be _that_ happy. Not that he wanted the girl to be miserable, of course. He pitied her, but her behaviour had to be easier to predict and control. Most of his students, even the more unbearable ones, he could guide to act a certain way, usually by guilt or shame. It worked on him, it worked on his peers, it worked on his students, but her.

Severus Snape was no saint. He knew that about himself long before he graduated school. He knew it was petty to be irked that a student in his position wasn't as fucked up as he was. He knew it was bad to wish she would be embarrassed, but that was the only thing that could stop the behaviour. _Come off it, Lovegood, Longbottom, picking on them makes you feel bigger, like you're in control. Stupid piece of shit._

He couldn't deny that. But there was something else. Severus noticed that Hermione was close with this girl, and he suspected that she was the only healthy relationship she had. He needed to know that the one friend who seemed okay was capable of considering the impact her actions had on others. Had some trace of empathy. Luna Lovegood had showed him no sign she could think of anything beyond whatever fantasies danced in her head.

"I'll be deducting five points from Ravenclaw for Miss Lovegood's impertinence."

"Thanks, Luna!" several Ravenclaws hissed.

"I can always deduct more, Ravenclaws!" he snapped.

_I really hope you make new friends, Hermione..._

* * *

Hermione ducked out of a cubicle in a girls' toilet, tucked the time-turner back into her robes and made her way to DADA. She decided to aim for five minutes before each class after the exhausting attempt at a photo-finish for each class before lunch. It ensured that she could get there on time, not run into herself or other students in transit from classes that she was supposed to be just leaving. Ducking into the toilet ensured she could avoid what felt like the ever-present gaze of her father. _First day and I'm already going mad._

"Hermione?" Lupin looked up from his copy of their book, his grey eyebrows knit in confusion as he eyed her.

"Yes," she said, scrutinizing his face.

"Erm," Lupin's eyes scanned the room before he switched to Japanese. "I think you must have a mix-up on your time-table. You're in third-year, right? I'm afraid this is my fifth year I thought the headmaster mentioned you were thirteen."

_Why the hell are you and Dumbledore discussing _me,_ Lupin__? _"Actually," she sighed, also switching to Japanese. He didn't want to embarrass her, she'd extend the same consideration if students entered. "I've been moved to fifth year. You should find my name on the register."

"Hmm," Lupin mused reading over the register. "I believe you, but I think they haven't updated the register. The only Hermione here is Hermione Sna-oh!" he shook his head and then sighed. "Actually, that makes a lot of sense now."

Hermione choked, taken aback before squeaking: "Sorry?" _I guess I was__ kind of a bitch on the train._

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant!" Lupin nervously chuckled. "Your dad was very upset about the incident on the train. It makes sense now why he was as upset as he was about the whole thing. With me at least, but I bet he was quite proud of you."

"Have you _met _my father?" Hermione rolled her eyes. _Why the fuck did I say that? Don't trust him with anything._

Lupin smiled at this. "I know you were being sarcastic, but your dad and I were classmates."

"I'm aware," Hermione raised an eyebrow before taking a seat. _Stop being a bitch! _

"I should have pieced it together before now," he shrugged. "You don't-"

"Look alike?" she said coldly forgetting her resolution to stop being a bitch. If she wanted information from him, she had to play nice. But every bloody new person in her life had to make that same damn observation. _Yes I look like the woman who likely abandoned me! Why can't people leave it alone?_

Lupin looked down, it seemed ashamed of what he just said. "You two probably hear that enough, sorry."

There it was again, an apology from a grown-up and something that looked a bit like respect. Neither was necessary, he didn't need her forgiveness or approval for any reason. She was again forced to wonder why he was doing this, but pushed the discomfort aside. "It's fine, sir."

The rest of the class progressed without a hitch. Hermione noticed as they were practising non-verbal spell (Hermione partnered with Lee, who despite showing off when he could for the twin's approval, went very easy on her until she hit him with a jellylegs jinx) that Lupin was just exceptionally kind with all the students while he made his rounds. He even offered words of encouragement when the twins let themselves be hit with their own spells giving them each other donkey ears.

"I always did say they were jackasses!" Lee elbowed Hermione.

"Lighten up, Hermione!" Fred pinched her cheek.

"Yeah," George pinched her other cheek. "You know Lee's right about us!"

Judging by the twins erupting with laughter they didn't suffer anything more than the superficial traits, she didn't think they'd be in the hospital for months or have permanent changes. Hermione was just unlucky enough to be transfigured by someone who had no clue what she was doing. Fred and George were lucky not to suffer what she did.

"That's some very-erm-intracate spellwork, boys," Lupin said. "But we can when we try again, perhaps we can avoid transfiguring each other to the point we need Madam Pomfrey to undo it? Though you both did it silently, so I'll reward five points to each of you."

The twins left before everyone else was dismissed and Lupin closed the class by telling everyone to return to their seats. Many couldn't be bothered paying attention, as it was so class to the bell, but Hermione kept her attention on him as he announced next week they (actually all of his classes) would be confronting a boggart. She wanted _something _to justify her unease with him. He seemed like a legitimately nice person, and it clashed so directly with everything Hermione thought she knew about him.

"Hermione?" Lupin called. "Mind if we have a little chat?"

_Here it is, _Hermione approached Lupin's desk nervously wringing her hands. "Yessir," she nodded.

"Listen, Hermione," he started looking a little nervous, once again dropping into Japanese. "I'm sure your dad has told you quite a bit about me, and I don't imagine any of it's good. Things weren't great between us, and I certainly was no saint looking back. I have to admit he has more than the obvious reason to be suspicious of me. And I don't begrudge him for telling you, nor you for knowing."

He gave her a pointed look for a moment, something in his light green eyes to similar to Harry's when he made his pleas to be heard out. But unlike Harry, it seemed Remus Lupin never found himself in a position where people suddenly did listen to him after years of being ignored. Hermione knew how that felt. Hermione offered him a weak smile. "He didn't say anything about you," she lied. "All I know about you is that before you were hired here you did research on Yokai-Mannandake in Japan."

"That was quite brave, you know," Lupin said. "You had no idea what was going to happen. I was a strange adult come out of nowhere. I knew you recognised that when you spoke to me, yet you still tried to stop me from jumping. I wasn't going to, mind," he shook his head. "But many would have convinced themselves of that either way and kept walking. You even stepped between myself and your boyfriend just in case I actually was dangerous, even while you clung to his hand for comfort."

Hermione hadn't realised she'd done that. In truth, she felt weak leaning on Hiro, and Lupin's details made her feel a bit better about the whole affair.

"In truth, I was worried you walked away thinking I did jump," he said.

"What?" Hermione sputtered. "Of course not! You had a camp set up, that'd be stupid!"

"Okay," Lupin said softly lifting his hands as if to show he held no weapon. "What matters now is that you're okay. That and I want you to know whatever reason, and however you came upon it, you had to be suspicious of me on the train, I don't blame you. You were looking out for your friends and that's admirable. But there's no reason for you to worry about that, to worry about me, I promise."

Hermione gave a stiff nod, again, not knowing how to process everything she had just heard. Either way, it gave her an in if she wanted to ease her way to information she couldn't find in the archives. At the very least she could determine he was as sincere as he seemed. And there was something else she could get out of it.

"Erm, Professor Lupin?"

"What's up?" he asked.

"The boggart," she sighed. "My worst fear is, well kind of embarrassing. Is there anyway I could-erm-I don't know how to say it-"

"I can 'forget' to call you on Tuesday," he offered. "You seem to have a bit going against you here, I won't hold it against you."

_That damn pitying look, _she thought shrinking under his gaze. That she was familiar with. "I'm not incapable of handling it, I-erm-" she inhaled sharply and clasped her hands together. "It's, erm, it's fine. Don't feel like you have to make special arrangements for me. I'm not so fragile I can't deal with my classmates."

"Hermione," Lupin sighed. "I believe you can, but were I in your shoes I wouldn't want to. Why don't you come by my office Wednesday evening, to make up for the missed lesson on Tuesday?"

_If I'm 'sick' Tuesday, it'll all be above bored. If we're alone I can ask 'innocent questions'... _"Yessir," she nodded. "I'll be there."


	46. B3:Ch9: Unexpected Forms of a Boggart

"Are you alright, Hagrid?" Hermione asked placing a comforting hand on his arm.

The mammoth man did not look alright. His typically ruddy face was even more flush, tears pooled in his black eyes and he neglected to remove bits of forest from his bushy black hair and beard. "I dunno, Hermione,"he sobbed. "If Malfoy writes his father, I don't know what he'll demand! I migh' be sacked an' yer father reckons he might demand th-th-they ex-" he gulped and broke into sobs.

"Don't listen that git," Ron rolled his eyes. "You know he's always trying to make people as miserable as he is!"

"He was trying to prepare him for the worst case scenario, Ron," Hermione sighed. "Though I doubt he put it delicately."

Harry looked at his feet, his face paled and his green eyes shifted from side to side. "But it was all Malfoy's fault! They wouldn't kill Buckbeak because Malfoy's a prat, would they?"

Hermione bit her lip and Hagrid burst in to tears at Harry's question. If Lucius Malfoy demanded it, it would happen. That was how it worked. Ron looked grim, and Harry quickly realised the hold the Malfoys had over British wizards was all but complete. He got a self-righteous look in his eye and he rose from his chair slamming the tea down.

"Malfoy shouldn't be able to do that!" he yelled. "There has to be something you can do, something _we _can do, something _Dumbledore_ can do!"

"Harry," Hagrid sniffed. "It doesn' work like tha'! No one can figh' with the .Malfoys, an' Dumbledore will be lucky to keep me on. No one will take my side, no one anyone would listen ter anyway."

A sudden brain wave came over Hermione. If she reached as many people as possible, enough nobodies might make demands that couldn't be ignored. She grabbed her bag and dug out scrap parchment, her quill and ink. "People believe Malfoy's lies because he has wealth and power, but if we get our side of the story to enough people first, then it will look like Malfoy's saving face. If that doesn't work, I can look into legal defences. But for now let's try this. In order, I want each of you to tell me exactly what happened."

* * *

The week passed by in much the same hectic energy of the first day. When Hermione wasn't dodging her father's watchful eye, researching hippogriff behaviour or Black, she was doing copious amount of homework, helping Harry, Ron and Neville with theirs, interviewing the other Gryffindors (she needed a Slytherin from the class to balance it), she was chasing after Crookshanks, who still held a deep suspicion for Scabbers. She knew she should look into that as well, but she had so much on her plate already, she constantly felt as though she were on the verge of collapse.

When the letters from Hiro, Kaori and Saiyaka came on Friday she prayed for good news. She desperately needed it, but just hearing from Hiro at all made her heart leap for joy. Despite their decision to date, Hermione lived in fear of Hiro changing his mind, that he'd find someone local, that seeing each other thirty days out of the year wouldn't be good enough for him, that _she _was good enough. His letters dispelled those anxieties.

_Mi-chan!_

_I miss you so much! I keep thinking about that night in the bamboo forest with you, it was absolutely wonderful. I'm counting the days till next July!-or something else needy! fufu_ (Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at that, but she too was preoccupied with her return to Japan when she had the mental space. The thoughts even crept up on her when she didn't) _!__ I Things have been good since we came back to school. Classes are getting more difficult, but that was to be expected. I'm not a fan of Potions, it's my one blunder class. And Kaori's best, funny how siblings can be so different, right _(Saiyaka was the closest thing Hermione had to a sister, so she didn't really relate)_? I'll get it soon. I just have to pay more attention. I'm Acing Yokai Studies and History. And I've finally finished that series of yours! How could Sugarquills leave Jason in the maze and not knowing if Arabella is dead? Ugh! I blame you for my sudden fascination with Greek mythology! Miyuki and I have been exchanging theories on how it ends-and Miyuki has written endings for it! Okay, okay, I might have as well fufu!_

Hermione could easily picture the two doing that. They both always loved a good story, so it wasn't a stretch. Strange to imagine taking a book's characters and plot and writing their own ending, but it wasn't like Hermione didn't have her own ideas over the past seven years. Hermione thought she remembered Luna mentioning doing something similar when they were discussing the books last year. Maybe it wasn't as strange as Hermione thought.

_Speaking of mythology and stories, there's a Japanese Wizarding fairy tale I don't think you've heard before, but it's my favourite. During the Kamakura period there was a beautiful witch from across the sea. The locals called her Umionna, but she never gave a name to travellers and villagers that came to her shrine for healing. Umionna lived alone, in a house close to the water. Word of Umionna's beauty spread across Japan, and soon wealthy suitors sent out samurai to ask her hand. Every time the samurai would return to his Daimio with a refusal. Eventually, as these stories always unfold, the emperor decided he would marry her and not take no for an answer. He sent out his best Samurai Takimaru no Yasha, who was also a wizard. While travelling, Takimaru fished for his meal from the ocean. When he caught a ningyo instead of a fish, instead of collecting a handsome reward (ningyo are known to eat men), he threw her back into the ocean (Every man in fairy tales around the world is unrealistically strong, I have no idea why!). Umionna saw this act of mercy and fell in love with the Samurai. When Takimaru fell for Umionna in return, it was not just for her beauty, but her kindness to a village child she healed.  
_

_Takimaru never returned to the emperor. The two lived happily for a moon cycle before the emperor and his army began their march west. Word spread that he was making his way to claim Umionna himself. Both lovers new that the village they lived by, the one Umionna guarded and treated for years would be at risk. But the emperor was cruel and Umionna didn't want to be his wife. So, she devised a plan. He could not make demands for something outside the his reign, so she would return to the sea (and you thought it was just British tales that had things come out of left feild!). Takimaru was distraught, but ultimately agreed to the decision. The lovers fashioned a braided cord from the strands of the invisible red string of fate so that could stretch between them, connect them no matter where they were. When the emperor came for Umionna, she walked into the ocean in full view of him. For her sacrifice the village was saved. Takimaru spent the rest of his life on the run, but never grieving Umionna, for no matter how far apart they were, they were always connected._

_I'm hoping for a better ending for our story _(Hermione's heart leapt to her throat and she felt warmth rise to her cheeks), _but I'm overly sentimental, ask Kaori! Over the summer I visited a shrine and bought cords made by a shrine maiden. I liked the idea of being connected, no matter how far apart. You don't have to wear it, but I am wearing mine. This letter's getting a bit long._

_I really do miss you. _

_Love,_

_Hiro-kun_

Hermione reread the letter, hardly believing what she'd just read. Not only did he miss her as much as she missed him, but in his mind he likened them to the tragic lovers of his favourite fairytale and 'wished for a better ending'. Hiro was as committed to the idea of them as she was. To the point of giving her a braided cord. Wasn't that a big deal? Hermione removed the long red cord from the envelope, gingerly, torn between being a stupid girl about it and letting her feeling wash over her like a wave, or letting that voice in her head remind her that she was in no way good enough for someone like Hiro. _Fuck it, I had a shitty week, Harry and Ron stood me up at the library Monday, Buckbeak is in peril, my cat thinks one of my best friend's rat is 'wrong', whatever that means, and I've been running circles not to get caught by Dad with the time-tuner. Let me have this, voice!_

"Earth to Hermione?" Ron waved a hand in front of her face.

"Sorry, Ron," she said tucking the letter into her bag. "I must have-"

"You re-read that letter like five times," Ron knit his eyebrows and narrowed his blue eyes. "I'd ask if it were bad news if it wasn't for that creepy smile on your face. It was like you were on the bloody moon."

"I wish I was," she muttered.

"No wonder you and Looney are friends," Ron groaned.

"Don't call her that!" Hermione snapped before she inhaled deeply to calm herself. "What is it?"

"Never mind," he groaned. "Happy you're still responsive, I suppose. Letter from _Hiro_?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yes, actually. And I have no clue why you hate him so much. You've never fucking met him! Why the hell am I not allowed to have friends outside of you two, Ron? You don't even like me that much!"

"That's not true," Ron mumbled, looking down at his mostly empty plate, his ears turning scarlet.

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it," Hermione hissed. _Could I not have that one bloody moment, Ron? _

"I really wish you two would stop," Harry whispered.

_Why does he always cut _me _off to say that if we're both the problem? _"Whatever," she whispered after inhaling once more and clasping her hands. "I have to go. Harry, I have some findings on Black to share with you. I'll see you two after classes." _Are you going to apologize for snapping? No, Ron should. Or maybe I- _"I'll help you with that Gorgon essay after, Ron."

"Erm, thanks?" he blinked at her in confusion.

Hermione stalked up to the Ravenclaw table, trying to put it from her mind. She saw Luna eating alone by the end of the table, re-reading _Hades Hound, _completely absorbed. Hermione tapped her shoulder with a satisfied smirk. "Hi, Luna!"

"H-Hermione!" Luna nearly leapt before soothing her hair over her shoulder and reassuming a calm appearance. "I guess I know how that feels now, don't I?"

"I guess you do," Hermione laughed. "Hey, Luna-erm-I really hate to ask this, but id there any chance I-could-erm-get your help on something?"

"You know I'd do anything for you," Luna shrugged with a dreamy smile.

_Friendship with you is a little_ _intense_... Hermione wondered if Luna would be so dedicated if she had any other friends. She made a point of hanging out with Luna more often, especially after that conversation about her mother, and wrote her weekly over the summer, but she felt _guilty _about asking her for anything. More so then when she asked others. Hermione was Luna's only point of social connection, and any time she needed something out of Luna she felt like she had an unfair advantage. Then Luna said things like that, and Hermione knew on some level she was right.

"Erm," Hermione laughed nervously. "Y-you don't have to, Luna. I wouldn't be upset if you didn't."

"I know!" she smiled linking her arm in hers. "Hermione, I want to."

Hermione felt a flush rise to her cheeks and looked down at her shoes. Don't ask why, don't put her on the spot like that. "Thank you, Luna."

"Let's go!" Luna beamed, nearly dragging Mimi out the doors so they could chat.

"L-Luna!" Hermione sputtered trying to keep pace.

She followed Luna onto the school grounds by the lake. Luna had no idea that was where it happened, so Hermione couldn't hold it against her, but still took her arm back in order to clasp her hands together and dig her nails into her flesh. She would have to get used to it. It was just a lake, and the dementor didn't finish the job, she walked away intact…_because you were rescued. No, shut up! You're thirteen, grow the fuck up! You're fine, it's a lake, the dementor did nothing and you're fine. You've no right to be upset…_

"Are you okay, Hermione?" she asked blinking her silver eyes.

"Erm," she sighed forcing a smile. "It's nothing. So, I was wondering, would your dad be open to publishing an anonymous expose? Like the one I wrote on Lockhart, only this time it'd be about a covered-up situation rather than an individual? And it won't be exclusive, because my next question is-erm-how do you feel about resurrecting the Herald?"

"I'd love to resurrect the Herald, Hermione!" Luna exclaimed. "And I'm pretty sure I can convince Daddy to take your story. I mean, there's this piece on Haognigglies, but I think I can get him to push it to next week for you."

"L-Luna," Hermione blundered. "Th-that's not-erm-necessary, I don't want- but it is important. If you can't I understand. I'm grateful you're asking."

"What're friends for?" she smiled.

* * *

Severus realised he did not set himself up for the conversation he intended to have with Draco Malfoy after the class. Instead he let the boy weasel his way out of work for the class by assigning a petulant Weasley his prep work. He had very briefly considered handing it to Potter as well, but Weasley had managed to do the impossible. Earn more of his ire than Potter.

He supposed he had another reason to be grateful Hermione no longer had classes with them, she would have volunteered to do it herself while still trying to mouth or crudely sign instructions to prevent Longbottom from screwing up his potion.

Which he of course did in her absence.

He looked down at the orange bubbling solution and scored the boy a zero on what was supposed to be an acid green Shrinking Solution. If properly made it did more than shrink the subject, but depending on the subject and the dose it could take a life form to it's earliest life stages. Useful in plant cultivation during famine, continually renewing the same plant to a sapling, but an admittedly despicable part of his brain wondered if other parents looked at it and fantasised about a do-over in raising their children. Not that he would do it, of course. There were just so many moments he wished he'd handled differently.

"Orange, Longbottom?" he sneered. "Why am I not surprised?"

The round faced little boy shrank behind in his chair and his eyes scanned the room, perhaps forgetting that the one person to come to his rescue was no longer there. The boy seemed legitimately terrified, a part of him wondered if he were pulling a Pettigrew and using his ample lack of talent and pathetic appearance to garner sympathy. That may have worked on his daughter, who fell apart at the sight of washed up strays, but it wouldn't work on him.

"The instructions are on the board, Longbottom," he said. "You can read, can't you?"

Sniggering filled the room, not just from the Slytherins in the room, but his own housemates as well. Perhaps that would prevent further blunders in his classroom. If it didn't, he didn't give a damn. He just wanted the boy to scrape an A in his Potions OWL to avoid scrutiny, so he never had to see him again.

"Two years of this, Longbottom. And not once have you gotten a single potion correct on your own, hell, you haven't even with a lab partner half the time. I'm beginning to think you're not properly motivated. You have a pet correct? A toad I believe."

The boy's eyes grew to a size that nearly rivalled Hermione's and his face drained. Longbottom knew exactly where he was going with this. Everyone else did too judging by the silence that overtook the room.

"Make it again, and keep in mind the price of failure this time!"

_Hypocrite. If one of your colleagues had threatened the same with your daughter's pet you'd be livid... _No, he didn't care. He wasn't going to do it. The threat would motivate the lazy and typically unmotivated little idiot. What damage could that possibly do? _Are you really asking yourself that? Lupin barely came within three metres of you and you still tell yourself you were traumatised...because I was! I could have died or worse. Fine, and what about your mother? Your father was a bastard and you've mostly moved on, but your mother...you still think about things she said, don't you? And your precious little girl? You recognise the damage done there... I'm just the boy's teacher, it's different. If he takes this shit personally it's his own damn fault.  
_

"You should be done now, Weasley," said Severus. "We'll see how it faired after we test Longbottom's second attempt-I'm loathe to call it anything else."

_I'm so fucking shocked! _Severus looked down to see Longbottom's potion was purple this time. Even with proper motivation, he still couldn't brew a damn potion. He really hoped he wouldn't muck it up this time. He didn't want to go back on it, but he didn't want to kill the boy's pet either. If for no other reason than knowing that Hermione would never forgive him. Wasn't the child supposed to be the one worried about being on thin ice? _Well, you've fucked up one too many times for that to be the case haven't you? _

"I'm not in the habit of making empty threats, Longbottom," he said.

Longbottom shrank and whimpered.

"Sadly," he sighed. "Rules made before my appointment sadly forbid from doing such. Some bleeding heart administrator's assertion it would inflict 'emotional trauma'. That never would have flown when I was a student, I assure you. So, I'll take this opportunity instead to remind you that if you cannot scrape a passing grade in this class you will not be able to enter fourth year. Ignore my instructions at your own peril, you stupid boy."

The class let out to his great relief with no further incident. Now he just had one more difficult thing address. _She wanted to handle it herself, that's why she lied to you...Fuck it, the boy'll listen to me, and she'll never know. If she does, she'll thank me when she's older.  
_

"A word, Draco?" he said.

"Of course, sir," Malfoy smiled as if he was expecting praise. "It's too bad you couldn't poison Longbottom's stupid toad, it'd serve him right."

_What a spiteful little shit you are, Draco._ "Indeed," he sighed. _How to do this without you writing home...I wish you had Hermione's stubborn independence. _He looked at the small boy, so arrogant, and yet he pitied the poor thing. "I have a problem, Draco," he admitted folding his arms over his chest. "You see, you're perhaps one of my best students, and I understand your father has considerable reach within the school. But for two years now, I've kept my ear to the ground-"

The boy's smile faded.

"-and I do not care for much of what I've been hearing, Draco. Not at all. I've let it go on far too long, I'm afraid. My daughter never came to me, I knew she wanted to handle it herself. But she is too kind, too forgiving. I assure you, I am neither of these things. So let me make one thing _crystal _clear. I do not give a damn what you get into with Potter and his little side-kick, or that idiot Longbottom, but Hermione is _my daughter," _he lifted the boy's face by the chin. "I suggest you leave her alone. I've given you considerable advantages over the years, _do not make me regret doing so._"

The boy left his classroom for the first time with the distinct look of fear in his eyes. How much did it hurt to know he was no longer immune to the consequences of his actions. To know that he was merely a mortal after all. Draco Malfoy now knew Severus defended him, gave him allowances he didn't others. And he also now knew he could take it all away on his whim.

* * *

_Nee-chan,_

_I know you've probably already heard the news, but I really wanted to tell you! Kiki and Sunni managed to unionise the house-elves! Well, some of them anyway, there's only about ten in the union now, with growing student, and even some staff support! So far, their demands are to receive offerings of sake and honey weekly (I'm so anthro-centric, I asked why they don't demand money! Got an earful from Kiki), they have every full moon off. Again, not sure why they only want once a month, or why it took us so long to adhere to such simple demands! I think having the headmasters' grandchildren in their corner helped. _

_Speaking of full moons, I have excellent news! Remember the Osaka werewolf case? Well, she might be able to regain custody of her child! The research into Wolfsbane potions passed the initial testing phase! If she can go a year on this new potion without wolfing out, she'll have her freedom and custody! This is huge! I'm researching into it for NHWS and planning on writing an article about it in the __Mercury!__ This could completely change how people perceive werewolves. It's no longer a fate where you can't have connection, or are doomed to pass it on! I'm so excited!_

_Can't wait to hear back from you!_

_Saiyaka!_

A potion to treat werewolves? That was great! Hermione thought about the implications for those with lycanthropy across the globe. She knew they weren't well treated and faced discrimination similar to muggle-borns and intelligent non-humans suchas elves and goblins. Many viewed lycanthropy as a fate worse than death. She didn't know anyone that was infected, but she felt for them all the same.

"Damn it, Hermione!" Ron yelled shooing Crookshanks off his lap. "Your father threatens to kill Neville's pet and your cat actually tries to kill mine? Your stupid bloody cat went after Scabbers again!"

Hermione rolled her eyes rising from her chair to pick Crookshanks up, staring into his yellow eyes, which slowly blinked at her. She didn't buy that he wasn't doing anything wrong, the _Scabbers is wrong and familiar _still made no god damn sense to Hermione.

"Sorry! I'll take him to the girls' dormitory," she sighed. "I'll be back to help you with what you have."

Hermione carried the giant squirming cat upstairs and made her way to the third-year girls' dorm (Hermione still roomed with girls her age rather than the year she was placed in, and she wasn't a fan) and placed Crookshanks on her bed putting a finger in his face, which he sniffed rather than responded to. Crookshanks either didn't know she was upset, or, like everyone else, didn't care. It was fine. It was fine.

"I know that you think there's something wrong with Ron's stupid rat," she hissed.

Crookshanks stopped squirming and stared at her as if pleading with her to listen, but once again, when Hermione tried she only got the vague idea that he knew the rat from a long time ago, and that something wasn't right about him. Neither of those things were actionable. And she wasn't very well going to Ron and saying 'my cat thinks your rat's vaguely _wrong. _You should let him eat him'. Fuck, they didn't listen to Hermione when she was right, let alone when she was uttering nonsense.

"I don't fucking care, Crookshanks," she softened her voice. "My friendship with Ron is tenuous enough as is, please. I don't need your help destroying our friendship. He's already angry with me. Don't make it worse, I'm begging you."

Crookshanks narrowed his eyes, stretched and curled up into a little cushion. Hermione got the message loud and clear, _Fine, have it your way. _She would have gleaned that even without the residual effects of the damn curse.

She returned to the common room to find Ron and Harry were joined by Neville, who she hadn't seen all day. She couldn't blame him for avoiding him after what Harry told her about their Potions class in the afternoon. She would have to talk to her father about it, threatening to kill Neville's pet, implying he couldn't read...and assigning Ron Malfoy's prep work, when he _knew _his arm was healed wasn't acceptable either, but her concern lied with Neville.

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip. "Hi, Neville."

"Erm," Neville looked down. "Hi, Hermione."

"I am so sorry, Neville," she said quietly. "Are you-erm- okay?"

Neville nodded and shrugged. "I'll be okay. He's right anyway, I'm doomed to failure."

Hermione's blood boiled. How fucking dare he say that? What the hell was wrong with _him? _Neville was harmless and her father..._I don't know how to fix this. Every time I think things might get better between us, he does something like this. Dad, please, I'm so, so tired of running damage control. I'll talk to him about it tomorrow._

"You're not doomed for failure, Neville," she said. "I know what failure looks like, and you're not it, trust me. I'm so, so sorry that he-I-erm-I'll do what I can to fix things. I really am sorry."

"You've mentioned," Neville attempted a sheepish smile, but still looked truly miserable.

"Hermione," Harry knit his eyebrows. "You do know you're not responsible for your dad's behaviour, don't you?"

* * *

"One week and you already seem ready to collapse," Severus observed.

An exhausted Hermione nervously wrung her hands as he ushered her into a chair. Despite her shifting her weight from foot to foot, Hermione remained standing and took to clasping her hands, digging her nails into her flesh. Severus observed her uneasy movements, and noted her purple-ringed eyes glued to the floor, her pale face pensive. _This is a record, I don't think she'd ever been so weary in the first week. She seems troubled. _Looking her over, there was no new information as to the reason behind the fatigue and nervous behaviour.

"Whatever you're about to say, I suggest you say it, Hermione," he sighed lifting her face. "What did you do, little girl?"

"Erm," she collected herself, looking a bit hurt before restabilising eye-contact. "Actually, it's about what you've done, Dad."

_What I've done? The nerve of this girl, to think I raised-I'll hear her out. _"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow. "And what is it I'm supposed to have done? I trust you aren't simply taking whatever those boys tell you about me without verifying it first?"

"Did you threaten to kill Neville's pet during class yesterday?" Hermione drew herself to her full height, all one-point-four metres of her, and dug her nails deeper into her hands.

"I always thought one day you'd out grow that nasty habit, love," he sighed taking her hands and examining them. "I'm astounded you've yet to do any real damage to-oh, what's this?" he indicated the braided red cord fastened around her wrist. Hermione wasn't one for trinkets.

"You haven't answered my answer, Dad," Hermione changed her approach from commanding-which did not work on him-to imploring, her large brown eyes staring into his own and holding his hands.

In that moment he didn't see a defiant pre-teen girl who favoured her friends over her father, but instead a tiny child desperate to believe what she heard wasn't true. That there was some misunderstanding he could clear up. Severus started to wonder how much his child let herself live in denial because it was easier. She was clever, exceptionally so. He was starting to get the impression that her denial was a courtesy she often extended to him. He truly missed the days where it was just the two of them.

"I wasn't going to do it, love," he sighed. "If the boy wishes to avoid such call-outs in the future he should be working harder, not hiding behind the professor in question's daughter. I swear those boys only see you for what you can do for them."

Hermione pulled away and narrowed her eyes. "I'm sorry?"

_This shouldn't be a surprise, love. They treat you like rubbish, open your damn eyes before it's too late. _"Hermione, love, we both know those boys are all taking advantage of your naivete," he then sighed. "I blame myself, I perhaps should have considered socialising you when you were younger. But you just weren't ready. Two years have passed since you've been integrated with your peers, and you're still over-eager for anything that remotely seems like approval. Potter saved you from the chamber, fine. I can't pretend he didn't make sacrifices for you. But I _can _ask you if you honestly feel like they respect you. Do they even listen to you?"

Hermione's gaze fell to a far corner of the room. Perhaps it was something she considered herself. Hermione's mind was a chaotic thing, he did not need magic to know that. Since she was a child, she was silent, but he doubted there was a thought that crossed her mind that she didn't dismantle and reconstruct several times. His daughter was a goddamn paradox. She was so pensive, she had to understand everything down to the most minute detail. She'd torment herself with her past actions, and doubted she even let a cruel thought pass without convincing herself she was a terrible person. Yet, after all that analysis and reflection, if she could find a modicum of comfort in a lie she told herself, she'd cling to it. Though her silence told him some of those lies were getting harder for her to believe.

"That shouldn't be a question you need to think on, love," he sighed setting his hand on her head. "I only say this because you were clearly uncomfortable with this arrangement and I doubt they cared. I only want what's best for you."

"Arrangement?" Hermione breathed. "I came to this decision myself."

"After seeing how distraught that boy was, no doubt," he scoffed before patting her head. "You're a child, I shouldn't be surprised your judgement is so lacking. That, my dear, is precisely why it is so important to listen to me. I do know what's best, after all."

* * *

Wednesday evening came that week and Hermione barely scraped the surface of her research on Black. She found out why Harry and Ron bailed on her in the library Monday, and the last few days. Oliver Wood had become obsessed with the damn quidditch cup, and taking up every bit of Harry's free time. Ron probably just didn't want to be alone with her after she snapped at him Friday afternoon. Between writing her article, the hippogriff research needed, and the madness that was her academic life with the time turner, she barely had time to sleep, and already fell into her, admittedly unhealthy, habit of skipping meals to finish her work. She barely spoke to Neville, Ginny or Luna or anyone outside of classes. And Hermione and her father had come to the unspoken agreement to pretend she never confronted him about threatening to kill Trevor. Thank god, because Ron was always eager to argue with her about Crookshanks. She _hated _to admit it, but her father was right, they didn't respect her. But he didn't either. It was fine, Hermione knew she had to earn respect, if she kept trying, if she could manage to do something right, she might get it. If she didn't earn it, she didn't deserve it and...that was...fine.

"So, if the gorgon makes eye-contact with their victims they petrify them?" Neville asked mulling over his DADA essay.

"Yeah," she smiled. "And remember, Gorgon petrification is like cockatrice petrification, it turns their victims to stone."

Neville's eyes widened and he made a sudden sound, snapping his fingers. "Like Jason's mum in _Thirteen Tasks?_"

"I imagine they did plenty of research into Greek monsters before writing," Hermione shrugged, happy to see the connections being made. "See, Neville, you're not stupid. A lot of people wouldn't consider it. You're getting it, you just need more confidence that's all."

Neville's face flushed pink and he looked at his twiddling thumbs. "Erm, you don't need to say that, Hermione," he ventured eye contact. "I know I'm rubbish."

"You are _not _rubbish, Neville," Hermione sighed brushing her hand over his head. "I wish you were kinder to yourself. You'd never be friends with anyone who spoke to you the way you speak to yourself," Hermione then thought of how he was treated by everyone. "Okay, maybe you would. But you shouldn't. Neville, you're smarter than you think, and unlike those arses, you're a decent human being."

Neville was easily twice Hermione's size, but he was so gentle. Neville was her friend but Hermione also felt responsible for him, maybe it was because he was her father's favourite victim and she had to make amends, or maybe it was because she identified with him. She knew what it was like to never be enough, to be almost universally scorned. Mistreated at worst and tolerated at best by even those she called friend. They were done all done fucking with him.

"Neville," she said. "Don't let them treat you like that. There are depths to you those idiots could never imagine. You are _done _being their punching bag, putting up with _their _bullshit. Who the hell do they think they are? To demand so much from you and give you nothing but mockery in return! How dare they take advantage of your patience, use your ideas and information then conveniently forget your contributions to solving the damn thing! And how fucking _dare _they make fun of you when you've suffered irreparable damage?! And they still expect your bloody help?"

"H-Hermione?" Neville gulped.

"You're not rubbish, Neville!" Hermione proclaimed. "You are a goddamn hurricane and they are going to _regret_ the way they've treated you for fucking _years_!"

"Erm," Neville bit his lip. "I feel like that stopped being about me a while ago...Are _you _okay?"

"I'm fine!" Hermione leapt from her chair and straightened her posture. She clasped her hands together as she inhaled deeply trying to collect herself. "It's nothing."

"Okay," Neville gulped. "I-if you need t-time, I can do it myself. Thanks for the help though."

_See, this is what happens when you lose control! You should have known better, you stupid piece of shit! _"Sorry!" she said quickly. "I didn't-I-erm. So, the essay's looking good. I'd-"

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said entering the common room with Ron. "Lupin said you were supposed to meet him in his office?"

"Oh!" she clapped her hand to her forehead. "I can't believe I forgot! Thanks, Harry. I'll help you later, Neville, promise!"

* * *

"I am so sorry, Professor," Hermione gasped.

Lupin blinked at her as he let her into his office. She looked around to see various tanks, one with a Grindylow, the other with a Kappa, who looked _wrong _slumbering in the tank, grasping a half-eaten cucumber. Honestly, she didn't much care for any of the imprisoned creatures he kept. They were remarkably well cared for, especially in comparison to the pixies Lockhart kept, but it still, saddened her.

"Each of them were injured as infants," Lupin explained, perhaps taking in her expression. "They weren't making it in the wild. They'll be returning to a magical creature reserve after a couple lessons or so."

Hermione bit her lip and clasped her hands together. She couldn't afford to piss him off if she wanted to earn his trust. Adults were like fairies, fickle and easy to enrage. She took in a deep breath and nodded.

"Do you know what a boggart is, Hermione?" Lupin asked before dragging a large trunk onto his desk.

Hermione nodded. "A creature that transforms into whatever its observer most fears. It feeds on fear and if unchecked for long periods of time, can cause madness. A lot of haunted house claims from muggles wind up being a boggart that tormented them for years. Though it can only appear before one person at a time. Or it'll try to do more than one form at once. Which can lead to it looking funny. Laughter hurts it."

"Right you are, Hermione," he smiled. "And the spell to use on it?"

"Ridikulus," she answered. _Don't be so damn proud, you knew that since before first year. _

"I see you've done the reading," he nodded. "Now, you said you thought your worst fear was embarrassing. After seeing your classmates' boggarts, I want to assure you I've seen plenty of fears they'd find embarrassing. I don't judge them, and no matter what it is for you, I won't judge you. Are you ready?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She just had to settle on one damn fear, let the thing get a read on her and take shape. She shouldn't have been so nervous about it, no one could use it against her. No one but him, and she tried to get a read on him. "I'm ready," she said, her wand ready.

Lupin opened the trunk and an invisible form left it with a whoosh before assuming the form of Ginny in a pink dressing gown, clutching Riddle's diary in one hand and pointing her own wand at her with the other. She smirked evilly and spoke.

"You're mental, broken, a bad person. You're useless, no wonder Daddy finds you insufferable." she purred. "I'll kill you when he comes for you and leave Ginny just in time for the little blood traitor to see the last breath leave your frail, little body. I'll take the last of her strength and Harry Potter will see what _real _power is!"

Hermione wasn't prepared to hear those words again. She thought she was, but she was beginning to feel like those were all true. She lifted her wand and tried to speak the incantation but the form shifted to Neville, looking down at her terrified. That she wasn't at all prepared for.

"You've lost it," he said in a small shaky voice. "You are just like him..cruel. Did you forget you petrified me? I thought we were friends."

The form shifted yet again. This time it was Hiro backing away from her repulsed, his hazel eyes narrowed. "You're not worth the trouble."

Ron's form emerged from Hiro's, his ears bright red and grimacing. "You never were. You're a nightmare, a mental, spiteful bitch!"

Harry appeared next with a bandage over his right eye. "I reckon Ron's right and that you've got some kind of brain damage."

Then a taller, older bushy haired woman who looked so much like Hermione appeared. "I wouldn't be surprised. You came out _wrong. _Spineless, sick, pathetic, insufferable child. I should have never carried you to term!"

_She doesn't exist, _Hermione had been used to this imagined woman's tirades and was once more collected enough to cast the spell when the boggart took a form she had not prepared in the time she realised it could rapidly adjust its form. Not Kaori, Saiyaka, not any of her bullies, but an even taller version of her father looming over her with an expression of profound disappointment.

"You can't even take care of a boggart?" he sighed lifting her face. "You disappoint me, Hermione. But that's not exactly new, now is it? You spend so much time with your little nose in a book and yet you can never manage to do anything right. And you have the nerve to be angry with me? Who raised you when certainly no one else would. What is _wrong _with you? You're pathetic, you stupid little girl. I wish I had left you in that alley where I found you! It would have saved me the trouble. Whoever your biological parents are, they had the right bloody idea!"

_Not real, just cast the damn spell._ "Rid-"

_"Silence, you stupid little girl!_" he-it- commanded.

Hermione swallowed feeling the tears pool in her eyes. She knew it wasn't real, but everything she heard, it was true. She knew for a while, the boggart just dragged it out of her. And she couldn't help but listen to his command.

"Pathetic," he sneered. "You suspected the rumours were true for quite a number of years now. You just didn't want to believe _both _your parents abandoned you, did you? And I was fool enough to take you in. You were nothing before then, I just wish I knew that you'd still be nothing when you grew. All you'll ever be to me is a disappointment, a _failure._ Are you honestly crying? How did any child I raised become so weak?"

"Ridikulous!"

The form of her father darted away but Hermione was confronted with Luna, her expression serious. "I don't think I'm surprised you don't trust anyone, Hermione. I mean, nobody trusts you, and there's a very good reason for that-"

A half-cat Hermione with blood on her claws appeared before her. "All I ever do is hurt people. But at least like this I'm useful. No wonder they all leave..."

Hermione tried the spell again, but she was just faced with herself and the knowledge that it was all true. Since the summer she had tried so hard to live like the others, tried to lie to herself, that she could ever be something worthwhile. That he rage at Harry, Ron and her father was somehow justified. That she had the right to be happy. She still hadn't earned anyone's respect or trust. She was too much of a fuck up for anyone to want her. _And you thought _they _were being unfair to _you_?_

Hermione realised her spell was failing because she couldn't conjure an image that made her laugh. All she could think about were the words she'd just heard. It simply just kept shifting between the forms, with the addition of a Black girl with bushy brown hair and a Korean-Japanese boy with eyes just like Hermione. The couple from the mirror of Erised, Hermione would suspect her birth parents if they didn't look sixteen. Though if they were teenagers maybe throwing her in the back alley was their only option.

She mulled over the words again and again, wondering what was _wrong _with her. _Just think of something funny, is that so damn hard?_

Lupin had enough at some point. He stepped in front of her with his wand out and the form of the bushy haired girl shifted into a milky, glowing orb suspended in space. Hermione squinted, trying to figure out what it was, it was familiar, but looked wrong suspended in the teacher's cluttered office. Then she saw the rabbit that doubled for a man's face. _Why is your worst fear the moon, Lupin? __He was staring at the three-quarter moon quite intently that night..._

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Lupin asked clasping the trunk shut once he shoved the boggart back inside.

Lupin stared at her, with a patient expression and understanding eyes. He lowered himself to her eye-level, something no one but her father did, but she recognised the pity etched across his thin face. She suddenly knew how he saw her, a frail little girl incapable of handling herself, that was how they all saw her. A creature worthy of pity if the trouble didn't outweigh it.

_Fuck..._ Hermione hastily dried her eyes and let her hair hide her face. "I'm fine."


End file.
